#he's not much taller than me; maybe a few inches taller and thin as a twig but holy shit that guy has

[screampied]

‘ THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER ! ’

ᡴꪫ‎ synopsis. university sucks major ass. on the bright side, you’re on break—you decide to go pay your father a visit. this 'visit' ends up to you being introduced to his best friend, toji. who’s he? maybe your panties know the answer.

wc. 7.4k

warnings. fem! reader, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), praise, cunnilingús, squìrting, implied multiple órgasms, unprotected, degradation, size difference, impact play, poor dad is kinda clueless, almost caught, overstimulation.

dbf! masterlist

“who’s he?”

a simple question — yet the moment the words ran out your mouth, it felt as if all eyes were on you. in reality, it was though. the tall man who was quite a few staggering inches taller than your own father had such a gaze. he had hands buried into the depths of his pockets, shifting his weight as he stood still before burning a stare right into you. an intense stare, you could almost make out somewhat of an intriguing smirk. that sly smile with an everlasting scar running down the right side of his mouth.

“hey honey,” your father waves out with a brief gesture. he throws an arm around the buff man before giving him a rough pat on the back. “this is toji. met him ‘bout a year ago at one of those boat races. heh, news flash—he lost.”

“woah. no need to embarrass me, man,” toji murmurs in a raspy tone and by all means was his voice deep. laced in pure baritone, far deeper than your fathers. by a mile, to be specific. his voice has a jagged huskiness to it, insanely attractive. as he spoke, his eyes flickered towards you and he’d occasionally look away with that same chaffing sneer. “but anyway,” toji averts his eyes back towards you. his cologne was loud, you could smell it from miles away from you. he pauses for a few good seconds before uttering. “it’s nice to meet ya, sweetheart.”

you gulped, suddenly feeling small. you couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him — his demeanor, the way he carried himself, anything was. but it was something that had you a bit drawn in so to speak. “i um..”

“she’s not that much of a speaker,” your father chuckles, giving you a soft rub near your back. “poor brain’s probably all fried from those midterms. right honey?”

“you don’t say.” toji raises a brow, glancing away for a moment and a smile tugged right against his his dimples—and for a moment, he was suddenly intrigued by his best friend’s daughter.

that was the initial first reaction between the two of you. you ended up staying at your father’s house for the remaining duration of your visit.

nothing too much sparked between the two of you, of course there’d be subtle moments. real subtle moments—stupid things, like having him help you grab something from one of the top shelves.

of course he’d help, he was taller than you by many many inches. effortlessly towering over you. it’s the way he’d press up against you. it was quite hard to shut those thoughts of yours up. those lewd salacious thoughts that were forever kept into the very back of your brain, silently fantasizing about your father’s best friend.

apparently, he stayed for quite around the same time you did since he and your father would typically hang, do all sorts of men activities you never really cared about—golfing, shooting ranges, watching the most recent football games. that was the most annoying part, how they’d both obnoxiously yell at the screen whenever their favorite team was pathetically losing.

your room was directly upstairs, you heard everything. it was as if the walls were merely thin. in a way, they were. the constant repetitious hollering from the two men were so irksome. eyes merely rolled to the back of your head whilst you were trying to scroll on your phone in peace.

you never did understand why a dumb game of balls would drive men so crazy. nevertheless, you let off a tiny sigh before plopping right down in your bed. immensely, you stared off into space.

you had no idea why, but the minute your eyes linger into the white nearly peeled off drywall near the ceiling, you thought about him. toji.

stupid, maybe…

it’s been a few days and you hardly knew the guy. encounters between him were subtle and brief. he’d nod his head at you, barely acknowledging your existence and going straight back to some meaningless conversation with your father.

there was one day however, one day that had you hot all over. it was when you walked in on toji, he was using the spare shower that no one really uses, it’s reserved mostly for guests—perfect for him in this case.

you remember it like it was yesterday. since you were wide awake during this time for whatever reason, your dad sent you to go replace some towels from downstairs since he was doing laundry so you mindlessly make your way downstairs. the door was visibly cracked. sure, you probably should have knocked but who takes showers around three am?

apparently, this guy.

toji was literally just getting out the shower when you walked in. steam fogged throughout the entire space.

it was hot, stuffy and dampened with mist clinging against the rectangular mirrors. smothered with fog, you practically end up bumping right into something hard.

to be specific, that something was toji’s broad chest. maybe you were a bit delusional but you could have sworn, the moment you made contact with his bulky pecs, it moved upon impact.

“excuse you, sweetheart,” toji would scoff teasingly, his low voice was a bit more rougher since it was late at night. you were definitely speechless, barely able to process a single word from your mouth. thankfully a towel was wrapped around his slim torso—yet you started to wish maybe he didn’t have it protecting his lower half.

your eyes stuck to his chest the entire time, talk about embarrassing. immediately, your pretty dilated pupils ran down his chest, down his v-line, his perfectly structured build . . and then, his happy trail. he was well trimmed of the sort, practically. toji’s version of well trimmed was a bit hairy. regardless, it was still an attractive feature.

the more your eyes rove, the more you glance at his nearly perfectly sculptured structure. his chest was painted with a plethora of battle scars, now you were the one intrigued. you wanted to know more.

“you’re a little rude, huh,” and you abruptly snap from your thoughts. it was so brusque…

returning back to reality, out of that lewd trance you were so desperately trapped in—you blink twice, not even realizing how he was right up close to you. toji stares down at you before sneering. “it’s like three am. shouldn’t you be in bed?”

you shift your feet a bit, maintaining a little distance before trying to reply in the best nonchalant way possible. “uh no,” and then you utter awkwardly. “shouldn’t you be in bed? who randomly wakes up to take showers this late?”

“guys my age,” he jibes. “ya wouldn’t get it.”

you deadpan, fully aware it was a joke but you held everything in you to not have your eyes roll all the way back. “whatever,” and then you nearly forget what you were about to do. he watches you, you open near the lower cabinet and replace the clean towels. it grew profoundly quiet, a pin could drop. the moment you turned around, toji scoffs to himself. “did you need anything? something else?”

“ah. thank you, i’m fine, princess,” toji huffs with a sly grin. he reaches near the small wooden table to grab what seemed to be a half-used lotion bottle. however, you didn’t expect for him to completely change the topic, flipping your own words around with a blunt, “do you need something?”

“huh?”

“you heard me, girl.”

the banter…

he was definitely cocky, playful, literally any other synonym would fit.

you hated how he’d get you speechless everytime. you loathed how he was such an effect on you. with a brief gnaw on your bottom lip you narrow your eyes, mumbling out a, “stupid question.”

“i agree,” toji smirks. “but eh. y’er a smart girl. ‘m sure you can come up with a good comeback soon.”

he was so annoying, entirely so.

it’d be simple interactions like that between the two of you. much to your surprise though, nothing really else happened. toji would tease you a bit then pretend nothing happened, throw you a compliment or two and call it a day.

toji would often visit daily or twice a day, mainly to hang with your father. you could care less about what they did, but you were bored out of your mind from being in the house all day. you could go out, but it’s not like you had anyone to go with. everyone was either busy or … busy. besides, most of your friends were on exotic vacations or out of the country—you sighed, rubbing a hand against your stomach as you stared in the ceiling wall.

but then, the most lasciviously filthy thought made its way into your thoughts. you thickly swallowed before reaching a hand down between your legs. the air grew abnormally dry, shame…

to be completely honest, you couldn’t even remember the last time you touched yourself. this couldn’t have ever been a more perfect time. you were sure your father and his cocky best friend was out at top golf, probably.

intaking a single breath, you lean back against your pillow—slowly, you started to focus on your breathing.

parting your legs, you lightly pull down your shorts before tugging your panties to the side. you wince for a little, realizing how you were already a bit soaked. a little dampened spot right towards the front part of your underwear. you knew it had to be from pondering about toji.

speaking of, you remember that time where he helped—well, ‘attempted’ to cook dinner that one time. all you could focus on was his hands. such rough thick hands, you wondered what’d it feel like to have those same hands gingerly wrap around your throat. such thick fingers shove down your throat while he calls you such degrading names—just anything.

the more you were deep in thought, the more drenched you started to become. you went slow, being patient with yourself. you imagined it was toji’s fingers instead of yours. such big fingers thrusting in and out of you.

steadily, you start to insert a single finger in. a middle finger, it felt good, you suppressed a single moan and by this point, your imagination was running wild. you allowed your body to relax for a few moments before you slipped another finger inside. seconds later, you started to gentle move around inside your clit. your pace was sweet and precise—you let out a soft moan that rang throughout your thin walls. “toji—f-fuckkk.”

your voice was shaky, imagining toji being here right now made you throb ten times more. just propped all up behind you, thrashing his fingers against your swollen folds made you more aroused than you ever thought. your thrusts against your own entrance was small, a steady pace but irregular enough to make your knees start to buckle.

throwing your head back a little, you started to whine as each second dragged. your breath became insignificantly heavy, hitched and all. you made sure to stimulate in all the right areas, adapting to a perfect rhythm, then that’s when you’re rudely interrupted. talk about a cliche.

“hey. is it anymore detergen—”

toji pauses mid sentence, literally trying to process the scenery in front of him. he stands still and his initial reaction was slow. the first thing he does is chortle lowly. “well, shit. is this a bad time?”

you’ve never felt anymore embarrassed in your life, a sudden wave of heat rushed over your body before you quickly shielded yourself with your blanket. “oh my god,” you’d squeak out, and toji averts his eyes elsewhere for a few seconds. “i thought you all left already.”

toji hums. he takes a moment, and it’s as if he’s thinking of what to say. he was amused, seeing your flustered state and he looks back at you. “we were but it got canceled last minute since a storm’s approaching,” and you let off a soft gulp, hearing his footsteps creak against your wooden floor as he got closer. “thank god it was me who came in here ‘n not your father, right princess? now that’d be embarrassing.”

“stop calling me that,” you grumble, and you don’t even realize how soft and weak your voice was. you slowly pull your fingers out before intaking another sharp breath. he glanced at you before simpering. “haven’t you heard of knocking?”

“girl,” toji utters in a low rasp. “the door was wide open. i can’t knock on air,” and you mentally eye rolled — he was so insufferable. incredibly so, toji’s eyes roam across your old room that was a bit scattered with some boxes from when you moved out four years ago. it was a bit unkempt, your father usually used your room sometimes just to store things from the attic. toji buried his hands into his pockets before chuckling. “i heard you, ya know. moaning my name all loud like that.”

you blinked thrice, sitting up before compressing your eyebrows together. “what?”

“whaaat?” he jeers, mocking you. toji inches closer towards you until he was right beside your bedside. you gaze up at him and he had a blunt sticking out from the corner of his lips. he looked so appetizing, even while dressed down. ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. you could tell he was fit, of course he was—you saw him shirtless. he was well likely in his early thirties, dressing so laid back and casual. “between you and me, sweetheart, you can do better. ‘s cute ‘n all but that’s not how ya finger yourself. been a while, yeah?”

this guy, he was so bold. casually speaking his dirty mind, not afraid to say anything.

you don’t know why, but those last few words made you throb. you loathed how right he was, it was as if he could read you like a book. between studies and actually living a university student’s life, you barely ever get time to yourself. time to please yourself.

“whatever,” you utter. “yeah... it’s been a while.”

“poor thing,” he clicks his tongue before taking a seat on your bed. it jitters from his weight for a bit before he peers a gaze at you. “hm,” he puffs out, dragging a hand against his jeans. “i’d be happy to help though. those useless fingers of yours can only please you so much, right? heh.”

this indescribable effect he had on you, it heavily irked your nerves. “…please,” and you don’t even register what quickly came out of your mouth.

you were so pent up by this point, being interrupted. you wanted to finish, you desperately wanted to finish. your soft breaths hitched, and toji’s intimate stare lingered on you for a bit. his loud cologne started to waft across the entire room, so intoxicating. “just make me finish, please.”

“there’s those manners,” he coos in a husky tone, and he gets up closer. he was purely teasing you, you just wanted to feel his touch . . . feel something at least. he pulls the fat cover that went over you, yet at a more tantalizingly slow pace. he was a mere tease, you nearly let off a whine once you felt the tips of his warm fingers skim past your thighs. “messy girl,” he mumbles, and then he pauses to glance at you. “are you sure? jus’ wanna-”

“toji,” you mutter, and you liked hearing you roll his name so sweetly off your tongue. seeing you grow purely frustrated was utter amusement to him. the way your eyebrows would curl and furrow, irises flaring and your jaw slightly tensing. you had such readable body language by default too. “please. i want you. just touch me.”

he simpers. “pretty please.”

“……”

again, he was so infuriating. you felt yourself starting to pant, not knowing how much longer you could take as he started to softly trail a thumb against your skin. his touch was so warm, it was intense and ignited something within you.

“touch me—pretty please, toji.” you mutter out, sprawling your legs out just a bit. it was so hot, the temperature surrounding the atmosphere of the room was so humid. he glances at you before smiling.

“that’s a good girl.”

his words warmed your heart in such a lewd provocative way, you just wanted his touch.

desperately yearning for it, toji leans up close, bringing a big hand to part your legs apart and he was so slow. he takes the blunt that was propped up between his teeth, setting it aside near your nightstand. you prepare to inhale deeply, not expecting him to then bring a tender kiss towards your inner thighs. he started to create a trail—a trail that gingerly went up and up and up.

“so sensitive,” he’d purr, watching your own body melt from just the softness of his lips against your skin. you wanted him to hurry, you replayed this exact scenario over and over at least a dozen times. now that it was reality, you just knew that your body wanted him. “oh. don’t give me that look,” and he smirks, watching the pout grow against your lips. “gonna stare at me all day or are ya gonna tell me how you’d like for me to start?”

“i need you to—eat me out,” you huff out in short singular breaths. you were throbbing rapidly, each moment he stalled to speak, the more aroused you grew. his warm breath just fanning against your folds had you nearly going weak.

he snickers. “need?” he repeats, and you moan once he swiftly drags a finger down your soaked cunt. it was drenched, but it could be a bit more. toji hums to himself cockily. “you don’t need shit, girl. fix your sentence ‘n talk proper..”

“i—” you gripe, starting to grow more and more frustrated. your vexed facial expression amused him. he raises his darkened brows, awaiting for your answer and the cute pout that continued to stretch across your lips was so cute. “i— i want you to eat me out, pretty please.”

“much better,” he says in a low gruff. the moment he finally hovers his mouth over your sopping clit, toji gently strokes a thumb up and down. opening you up slowly, he creates a single slow lick to make you whimper. “i’ll make ya cum quicker than you ever could, princess.”

and you knew he probably wouldn’t lie about a simple fact like that. toji’s touch, it was sloppy.

without a doubt, he was a messy eater.

just one taste of you and he was hooked—a new addiction for him and it wasn’t gambling.

you tasted sweet, candied even. he was in so deep, occasionally the tip of his nose would prod against your entrance. you slumped back against the bed, your legs twitching in pleasure. not before long, your lips started to part and you started to gnaw on your hardened knuckles. you didn’t wanna be too loud—you just remembered your father was right downstairs.

he didn’t have the best hearing in the world, but knowing you, you could be a bit overzealous with your moans.

the noises his tongue made, sliding his tongue between your folds, sucking and nibbling. he even broke away his lips just to spit a nice wad onto your pussy. you watched the entire time, mesmerized. he was so nasty—nasty and you only wanted more. toji continued to drag a thumb against your slit, lapping up your slick arousal that was already starting to drip down his chin. it ran further down, a bit of his trimmed facial hair now soaked with your sweetness.

“how’s it feel, princess,” he’d mutter out, briefly departing his lips away. as he does—you stare as a pretty cobweb of his own spit tugs against your own entrance. glistening and all, it was so sheeny. he was right between your precious thighs, and you couldn’t help but give his ruffled dark hair a light pull. “tell me how i make you feel. talk to me nice, girl.”

“good,” you whimper, nearly choking on your own saliva. your words were so trembly, you could hardly recognize yourself. it’s been a while since you’ve been eaten out, let alone being intimate. as you continued to let off irregular breathing patterns, you swallow. “f-feels good.”

“just good?” he’d tease, bringing a long suck towards your clit. you let off a whine once he playfully nibbles near that particular spot with his teeth. his tongue scrapes against your folds time and time again. it’s indescribable—toji’s head shook back and forth as he was nose deep into your pussy. for a moment, he sounds offended.

toji gives your cunt a sweet little kiss, and he feels it start to hastily pulse from doing so.

he knew you were getting close, all from a simple cue from his tongue. speaking of toji’s tongue . . it was lengthy.

so long, it reached areas that had your eyes mindlessly rolling back.

cute little cacophonies of, “oh my g-godddd,” repeated ghosts past your lips as you started to practically drag his face against you. the texture of his tongue—so moist and slick, already wet from obvious reasons, but grew even more dampened from your sheer arousal. it was a taste his tastebuds grew to crave more of. “gonna c-cum toji. f-fuckkk.”

“you’re gonna wait for me, little girl,” he grouses, and your irises fleetingly dilate. he gifts the entrance of your cunt with another string of spit, then he rubs a few circles against it. mean vigorous circles that made your legs pathetically twitch. “you make a mess when i tell you too.”

he was so mean.

such sternness in his tone, yet it turned you on. that slight secretive rasp that hid underneath his voice. toji breaks his lips away for a moment, glaring at you before focusing near the crevices of your thighs. he teasingly slides his tongue upward, away from your most sensitive area just to watch you squirm.

“toji,” you’d whimper, feeling his tongue just roam everywhere from below. he was so skilled, you’ve never had a man be so sloppy. at least in a way that toji was. he greedily sucks near your thighs, gently sinking his canines into the plush of your thighs before going back towards your pussy. “i can’t—can’t hold..”

you were barely able to finish your sentence, and that’s when you came — it was so sudden and abrupt. gushing all out of you and your nerves had your mind spiraling. a constant crazed loop.

it felt like a wave, a tsunami crashing down and it felt so good.

your orgasm that shortly followed was so loud, you didn’t even bother trying to cover your mouth. toji chuckles, cupping his mouth around the very top part of your achey slit before lapping his tongue against your hood. your hips temporarily quavered due to his tongue, and you still maintained a rough grip on his head.

“easy on the fuckin’ hair,” he’d grunt after feeling you roughly yank on his strands bringing a kiss towards your slick entrance. you swallowed, your legs feeling practically mush before he brings a terse spank towards your clit. “cute ‘n all, but i didn’t say you could finish yet.”

“s-sorry,” you’d breathe out, still feeling the after effects of your intense high. it was so good, your eyes were all hooded and droopy. toji saw a bit of drool seeping from the corners of your mouth and hums silently.

he sighs, leaning up before getting on top of you. he hovers himself and you stare up at him. he rests both arms over you, groping near the rickety headrest before leaning up close to your face.

“are you sorry, sweetheart?” and he gets up a bit closer, green viridescent eyes glance right into you—you smelled the mint and brief tang of alcohol residing on his tongue. using another hand to grab your chin, he softly pulls your bottom lip down before derisively grinning. “aw. nothing to say? no back talk this time?”

“i… want a kiss,” you pant, feeling his warm body just inches away from colliding against yours. just a single inch and he’d be grinding on you. “kiss me.”

“oh i dunno. sounds like a demand, babygirl,” he’d sneer, and your eyes leer near his scar. it was damp a little from him just being between your thighs a moment ago. perhaps it was a bit filthy, but you wanted to taste it. taste him. “ask me the right way.”

you pout, staring right into his eyes. “i wan— can i get a kiss, pretty please. i just want a kiss.”

“course ya can,” he utters, and that’s right when he squeezes your chin. your lips were plump and glossy. toji stares at you back for a long while, studying your cute expressions before he leans right in. the kiss was passionate, it felt so wrong but felt so right. you moaned the second his lips crashed onto yours. he finds it cute, feeling your arms rub and feel around his slim waist. you were pulling him closer — a sign that you wanted more of him. toji teasingly grinds his hefty body against you, and you whimper in his mouth once you feel his thick bulge prod against your panties that were halfway on you. “mhm.” he’d groan.

while his tongue skims against yours, you part your lips a bit for him and the incoming savory taste you’d get a treat out of.

you made sure to savor it, so sweet with a bit of spice.

running your tongue against his, breaking away to lick near his chin, softly making sure to lick near his stubble—you cleaned your own mess off of him. without him asking you either, toji grunts as he watched you through his peripherals. he’d never expect his best friend to have such a nasty girl for a daughter.

“y’er fuckin’ filthy,” he mumbles, breaking away and watching both strands of spit leave and depart. your lips curv into a cute needy scowl before he heard your father suddenly call out from downstairs.

“honey? i said, was that a scream…? is everything okay?”

your eyes widen, not even knowing your father was speaking—yelling actually. toji snickers, and now he’s the one suddenly quiet. prick.

“o-oh um,” you clear your throat, sitting up and that’s when toji starts to create soft chaste kisses near the inside of your neck. you nearly moaned before turning your head to speak. “i’m—i’m fine. i thought i saw a cockroach.”

“cockroach? do you need me to come up and—”

“no!” you’d quickly reply before clearing your throat once more. you let off a sigh, feeling toji start to suck near your collarbone. “i mean, no dad. i’m okay. thanks anyways.”

“okay honey, if you say so.”

toji chortles. “fuck. you’re bad at lying. just tell y’er old man you were getting eaten out by me.”

you glare at him, immensely bringing your brows into a furrow. “no, i’m not gonna say that. are you crazy?”

“maybe.”

you eye rolled, yet part of you felt like he wasn’t exactly lying. after all, he could probably be insane—perhaps he was.

you didn’t know, and to be frank, you didn’t really care. all you really cared about was getting pleasured—riding out orgasm after orgasm with him, and that’s exactly what you ended up doing for hours on end.

toji would find himself leaned back against your pillow, studying your hips carefully before grinning.

the moment you lightly shove him back, he clicks his tongue. “oh?” he says, and you already sprung his dick out. he was very much hard, presenting you with an upward slight curve. you licked your lips, hovering over him before giving him a few strokes. a groan slips past his lips and your thumb brushes against the various veins that ran just below his foreskin. “y’er gonna ride me? can a sweet girl like you even handle it?”

“shut up,” you’d fuss, and he just smirks at you. you wanted to wipe that smug expression from his face. he knew just how to irritate your nerves. toji watches you throw your leg over him, a simple hook around. you’re straddling him now and he brings two rough hands to attach near your hips. you lean in to kiss him again and he returns it, slowly tilting his head back and your arms wrap around him. he feels you reach down, grabbing ahold of his shaft before softly sliding the head of his dick near your slick entrance. “s-shit. you’re big.”

“i try not to disappoint,” he slyly says, sliding a thumb near your hips. his voice was so low, so pompous and arrogant. you give him a glare but he only hums out of pure amusement. “barely the tip in ‘n y’er struggling. need my help, sweetheart?”

you ignored him and he smirks, allowing you to do your thing—you bring one hand towards his chest, gently feeling near his perfectly chiseled abs. he was so toned, tracing against his tense muscles and he watches your every move. it was as if time was stood still, he chuckles at how eager you were. you weren’t like him, you weren’t patient and thorough. you were a bit more rushed and sloppy—cute, it was very much cute to him though.

a moan goes past your lips once the wet tip of his slowly starts to sink inside. it had a few droplets of pre-cum leaking down, and you slowly rocked your hips in place to get comfortable. his eyes go lower to focus more on your body, the grip he had on your waist was so rough and sensual. because toji was so thick — it took you a good six minutes, six precise minutes to reach all the way down to the base. your lips opened a bit, and you let off a soft shrilling whimper once you did a cute attempt at jerking forward.

“take it slow,” he purrs in such a rasp, you leisurely started to lurch back and forth once he was buried all the way down to the hilt. you inhale deeply and he was so hefty. balls deep, swollen balls that was hidden and engulfed beneath your inner walls. “atta girl.” he praises, watching you try to maintain a decent rhythm.

ringing went throughout your ears, you felt all hot.

toji playfully brings a hand to feel near your tummy. you were wearing some old university hoodie. it was comfortable, but much to his surprise, you didn’t have a bra underneath. he hums to himself, and you let off a moan once his hand trails ever further. further and further until his thumb brushes against your perky nipples.

“t— toji,” you’d moan, and another hand of his was tightly clinging onto the left part of your waist. you were riding him smoothly. yet since he was so big, you started to feel your thighs building up with drowsiness. your efforts were cute to him, so desperately eager to get off.

his black lashes flicker, and the way he’s all leaned back and manspread was so attractive—you felt your back start to naturally arch and it didn’t take long for toji to reach that particular spot. once you felt his tip prod against there—way past inside the orifices of your cunt, you let off a sweetened whimper. “found it,” he whispers, bringing you close towards his chest. you lean into his touch, intaking his cologne into your nose before your hand starts to wander all over his body. he liked how handsy you were, slipping a hand right underneath his shirt to feel a part of his abs. you made sure to trace directly on each line, each tender flexing muscle. all the way down onto his sharp v-line. further down, you started to feel his happy trail. your favorite.

he grunts, feeling the softness of your hands meander freely. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he gruffs in a sharp breath. an imaginary lump getting caught in his throat — he was holding both of your hips upright and by this point you were slamming right onto his thick cock. “touch me more. feel all over me baby.”

“can i—” you started, leaning in to kiss near the crook of his neck. your voice was soft, a bit trembly before your hands went up this time. feeling near his pecs before a breath gets caught in his throat. “can i feel here, toji?”

“f-fuckin’ girl,” he groans, a chill running down his spine the second he feels you gently rubbing a thumb against his nipples this time. toji was surprisingly far more sensitive despite his rough front he was putting up, it was a bit cute. after all, he did say feel all over you. toji was panting now, while you rode him continuously, he swiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “whatever.”

you giggle, watching him now be the one with a pouty expression this time. you plant a kiss near where his slanted scar went down his lip before he spanks your ass. “just ‘cause ‘m sensitive there doesn’t mean ‘m gonna get all whiney for you, girl,” he utters in a raspy tone. the sharp sting from the spank felt good.

you felt yourself twitch between your thighs whilst your hips moved in harmony. you do a little back bend with your hips, constantly jerking against him and he grunts with how slow yet sloppy your movements were. “keep goin’ slow like that. ‘m gonna—cum.”

his voice consistently got deeper, and the tips of his fingers gently pierced into your skin—you were vocal yourself though. moan after moan, a constant repeat. you found yourself whining out his name as if it was a lewd mantra. over and over again, to toji though, it was purely music to his ears.

he feels you start to slow down a bit though, exactly at the minute he tells you he was approaching his incoming release. toji clenched his jaw, gifting the fat of your ass with another mean spank. “f-fuck. keep fuckin’ me. make me fuckin’ cum.”

you plant kisses near his neck this time, near the very inside and you swiftly quicken your pace a little. he was stuffing you full of thick inches, full of such girth that had your tongue salivating right in your mouth. you could only imagine what it’d feel like to have his seed pouring into you. you couldn’t lie to yourself, ever since you saw toji shirtless. his bulge sticking out through his towel, you only imagined he’d be so full of cum to give. you tilt your hips backwards, and he lets off a husky groan.

that particular spot reached so deep, you felt it too. his cockhead pokes and taps repeatedly against your sweet spot and you sob out a needy, “f-fuck, ‘s right there,” you tilt forward and he’s just about reaching his peak. the longer you took, the more spanks you received.

toji was a patient man, but only for so long.

the bed frame creaked constantly, it was the only tune that played in the background. he slithers a hand down between your thighs and spanks your cunt a few times. you whimpered, already a bit sensitive but felt something else approaching. “toji— toji.”

toji groans, the build up nearly taking his breath away. with your rhythmic thrusts against him, his eyes merely roll and he has to take a minute to catch his breath. you wrap a hand around his throat—tenderly of course—then place your lips onto his once he finally finishes inside of you.

he didn’t expect for you to choke him, but he liked it.

he liked how forward you were, your thumb lightly grazed against his adam’s apple, and a deep grunt gets trapped in his throat. your cunt was practically overflowed with such dumps of his cum—you’ve never felt more filled. toji shook a little, a hand gripping your ass as you kissed him.

slowly, he started to feel himself get addicted.

he already was addicted from having a simple taste of you earlier, but he was getting infatuated. you had him whipped, and he knew this probably wouldn’t be a one time thing.

albeit, the last thing you expect is to pull away from the kiss once you feel a sudden pressure brewing up within you.

momentarily, you whine—feeling a sudden familiar wetness coat his base. nerves all throughout your body had you locked in a trance, and you pause your hips before toji tsks.

“little girl,” he mumbles with a sly smile. “did you just squirt on me?”

it was so unexpected, you pant heavily—heave after heave leaving your lips before you moan out a sweet, “y-yes.”

“don’t be shy about it. i like when it’s messy,” he sneers, his eyes tantalizingly trailing down your body once more before he lifts you up just a bit from his shaft. he observes the lewd mess, how much cum trickled past your thighs and he hums. “wanna do that again? i bet i can do it in five minutes, baby.”

to say you were being treated like a rag doll was an understatement.

toji was ruthless with you, ruthless with you in your own house. well, ex-house. you didn’t live here anymore but you used to.

he coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of you like it was nothing. making you imitate and try positions you’ve never even heard of—you were getting stretched, easily said. it’s been hours by this point, you weren’t even in your room anymore. you were in the bathroom with him.

toji had you propped up against the door, you’re taking him from behind and you’re roughly biting down on your lip.

entirely so, it was still risky.

your father was right outside near the living room doing who knows what. probably watching some sports program—yet of course, he started to grow curious of where his best pal went. initially, toji said he had to use the restroom.

like four hours ago . .

he was so mean too, spanking your ass numerous times. your ass was perked upright for him, and you’re leaning against the door. you whimpered, feeling him grip on your panties that he refused to pull off of you.

oh, he likes seeing it dangle and thwack against your skin. the pretty fabric just cutely rubbing against your thighs. his weight just barely hovers against you and he’s smacking right into you.

your cunt swallowed his hefty inches each and every time—by this point, you weren’t sure if you could even give him one more.

you lost count of how many mind blowing orgasms that you were just completely intoxicated from his dick and his dick alone.

toji’s rough bare hands grab onto both parts of your ass, spreading it before deepening his strokes just a bit. you moaned, feeling every inch store inside of your sweet cunt. he knew just where to hit you. you breathe through your mouth and your nose at the same time, heavy cute pants that started to fog up the door’s material.

“fuck, fuck me f-fuckkk,” you’d drag out, and your back naturally arches just from a teasing touch of his finger racing down your back.

your ass was held up high and your cheek was softly nudging against the cold door. another build up was approaching and you were just so in awe—you were literally thinking, where has he been all your life? “close, ‘m getting closer.”

“bet you are. drippin’ all on me ‘n it’s fuckin’ nasty,” he replies—yet you freeze once you hear footsteps approach the door. it was your father, right when you were about to cum—you feel toji’s hand wrap around your mouth. your eyes roll backwards, and then he speaks through the other end of the door.

“toji? hehe, did ya fall in there man? you’re missing the game. we’re down by four points.”

toji chuckles, hearing a tiny muffled squeak go past your lips. he was balls deep, giving you such thick vigorous inches. that’s when he leans right up close to you—a hand still propped to have your mouth shut before whispering in a raspy tone. “you gotta be quiet, sweetheart. you want y’er old man to hear you make a sloppy mess on me?”

you shake your head, making an attempt to try and suck on his fingers and be smiles. “messy baby.”

your mouth was now stuffed with nothing but his thick fingers. you moaned, coating each digit with your glistening saliva as he pounded right into you. the grip your cunt had on him made him groan. eyes roll into the depths of your cranium so far back that your vision was pure black. squelch after squelch, it was so erotic. the build up of your incoming release yet again.

it was so slow and tense, you felt your thighs ache and tremble the more you were arched all over for him. the most sluttiest arch he’s seen in a while.

“huh—oh, nah man i’m good,” toji replies with a simper. you were trying so hard to be quiet, if your father heard anything, that’d be a wrap for you.

dying out of pure embarrassment certainly wasn’t on your bucket list for sure. the way toji responded was so casual, almost as if he wasn’t just happily drilling into his best friend’s cunt in his own home. “four points? shit. defense can’t do anything right.”

“telllll me about it! i could play better with my eyes closed, damn.”

you found it so irksome how they were casually having a dumb conversation whilst you were just about to gush right onto toji’s shaft—you felt him dip his hips into you deeper though, and you let off a sweet whine.

toji leans into your ear and whispers. “you’re doing a good job, sweetheart,” and then he chuckles. removing his hand, you nearly let off the most loudest orgasm imaginable but you kept it together by biting your tongue. it was a cute squeal, and as your legs part you made such a mess.

again…

it was probably the umpteenth time.

while you ride out your release, he’s slowing down his strokes and stares at the excess cum filling up your entrance. toji licks his lips, dragging a thumb to plug it all back in once he pulls out. he didn’t like putting things to waste. you whimper, feeling so taken aback from how stuffed full you were.

it was an awkward silence, you felt a sharp scare in your stomach once you thought your father heard everything — but thankfully so, he plopped right back down on the couch. toji lets you take a moment to calm down, and then he brings a wet kiss towards your lips. you were so sensitive, trembling within his hold—you didn’t want him to leave just now.

“atta girl,” he purrs, that same sly smile pressing against his lips as he brings a thumb towards your lip. his gaze was so hypnotizing. such pools of green eyes looked like it had a story to tell, and perhaps you wanted to know just who toji fushiguro really was.

maybe that story is ready for another day though.

thankfully you didn’t get caught.

or did you—you had to leave out the bathroom first, then toji after about a lengthy minute time difference so it wouldn’t be remotely suspicious. once the both of you were out, after about an hour of you all crammed up and watching the boring never ending basketball game, your dad ends up going to the bathroom.

while he was occupied, you leaned against toji and he wraps an arm around you. he could tell you wanted more—but his gaze was stern, telling you with his eyes to basically be a good girl and be patient.

a few seconds pass before you father bellows out a pitched, “erm. toji? is this shampoo—? what’s this white stuff over the sink? doesn’t look like shampoo.”

the both of you share the same frozen expression, impish smiles fading before you nudge toji to speak after long seconds passes.

“huh? oh, that’s uh mayonnaise. i forgot to clean up after myself.”

“aren’t you allergic to mayonnaise?”

you mentally facepalm, watching toji break into a sheepish sweat before he gruffs out a low, “i guess not that brand of mayonnaise.”

“right. riiiight,” your father mutters, and you heard sudden shifting. it was abrupt, and you felt something fall — probably a brush from the familiar after sound, you then hear your dad add a follow up question. “wait a minute,” and he glances down near the floor. “are these panties?”

[entirelytoooobsessed]

needy!drunk!gojo satoru x gn reader-based off this post

synopsis: gojo is a lightweight, vowed to sobriety to keep whatever bit of shame he has left to his name. but he really can't help but take a few shots when he sees you doing the same.

warnings: sub gojo, gn dom reader, both reader and gojo are drunk, gojo's a lightweight, handjob, semi-public sex, he cries-like a lot, he also had nipple piercings bc i couldn't help myself, reader's kinda a hoe, feelings, think that's it

The warm press of hands against your hips is what makes you gasp. The soft touch of lips traced over your throat is what makes your head spin.

What a delightful feeling. 

What a human desire. 

“Touch me.” 

The room spins around you, the warm feeling of being held making you sigh, leaning into it. The scent of him, the greedy claiming of his presence in your mind. So selfish. Of him not to think of the effect that this has on you. To not care about the war going on in your mind. 

“Touch me, please?” A whine this time. A meek sound, spilling from his lips, making your body light up in return. 

“Satoru,” He practically purrs at his name on your lips. Pathetic. How easily riled up he is. How easily you’re able to make his knees feel weak. How much he loves the sound of your lips forming his name.

“Mmmm, say it again.”His nose sweeps delicately over your neck, working over a heavy sigh as he tries not to get drunk on the smell of your shampoo. Or more drunk than he already is, that is. 

“Your name?” You mutter slowly. 

“Yeah….” His words have been gradually slurring over the span of the night, with the amount of shots he’s taken, with the amount of drinks he’s had. With the inches of space between you closing until there’s nothing between you but the thin layer of clothing that does nothing to hide the bulge he shamelessly presses against you.

Even so, you know that he's always been far beyond measures of shame, but this is a whole new level, the way he continues to press his body impossibly closer to yours, his broad chest against your shoulders, his hips canting against you. 

You’ve always hated how he’s been taller than you, his incessant teasing when he throws you over his shoulder as you yell and pound on his back. He takes advantage of it all too often.

You don’t mind now.

“Why, Satoru?” Maybe you’re cruel for the teasing, for liking your friend’s reactions all too much. Shivering, nearly violently, throbbing against your lower back. 

He whines, “Sounds so…-so much better when you say it. Makes me wanna just…”

His breath is heavy with the scent of alcohol and you’re still not entirely sure how Shoko and Suguru managed to get him to break his vow of sobriety. Not when you’d seen him turning them down for the first bit of the night.

The next time you saw him he was getting dragged along by you, gulping down whatever liquids you shoved into his hands. 

With his feverish hands tracing up your body and his sinful hips pressing against yours. Muttering about how he wanted you and needed you, whispering about things he'd never have said in the harsh reality of day, but was that not the beauty of getting intoxicated beyond belief?

“Hmm? Just what?” 

He simpers, “Wan’ you to touch me, play with me, like I’m just a toy for you~” He grinds slowly and you wish you could kiss him. Kiss him until he’s breathless and red and can’t remember his own name. Dazed and dizzy and muttering gibberish while loosely gripping onto you. 

You don’t think if you’d even have to kiss him to do that right now, but the taste of his perfectly pink lips would just be an added pleasure to this delectable mix.

But you shouldn’t. And you won’t.

Not because he’s your friend and this will surely be crossing some unspoken line.

Or because it’ll throw off the axis of your entire friend group. You'd never let that stop you before. And you wouldn’t let something like that stop you now. Not when you've clumsily pressed your lips to Shoko’s, high out of your mind and hidden under the blanket of dark nights. Or when you let your hands wander along the lengths of Suguru’s skin, promising to make him feel things he’d never felt before. 

Not because Satoru Gojo is one of your best friends.

But because Satoru Gojo is currently drunk and so are you. And despite the fact that you’re practically drowning in the warmth of alcohol and all that is Satoru Gojo, you want whatever you do with him to mean something-be something. Not just a clumsy night of drunken mistakes and hazy flashes, not something you’ll forget in the morning and agree to never speak of again.

He’s too…important for you to treat him like that. And you’re too selfish to let anything you do to him to mean anything but the fact that he would be yours. But he’s not yours. And you’re not his. And all this thinking is only making a steady ache build behind your temples.

You sigh, twisting around in his arms. Blue eyes blinking back at you, slowly searching over yours and fuck, his lips are so kissable. Pink and plump, trapped between his too white teeth.

“Let’s get you back to Shoko and Suguru, they’ll take you home and make sure you don’t kill yourself.” You’re not entirely sure where they went or why they’ve left the two of you behind, all alone where they'd know neither of you were in the right mind to make good choices.

 “No,” He shakes his head, white hair tossing, ruffled and mussed from a night of clinging to you like this. Far too close for comfort though you still couldn’t bring yourself to pry him off.  “No, n-no, don’t wan’you  to leave…” 

You begin to tug him off either way. He’s not sane enough to make decisions for himself and you don’t think you are either. “C’mon baby, let’s go find your friends.”

He shudders and grips your hand, refusing to move an inch. Tears pool in his eyes and your jaw hardens.

You sigh. You didn’t know why you thought this was a fight you’d win either way. It was a losing game trying to argue with Satoru. His lips wobble and you can feel your resolve withering away by the second. Tearing down every single defence you put up around, being ripped away by him and his stupid tears as if they were paper. 

“Don’t leave.” He whispers and he looks pathetic but you know you’ll give in to him if he asks you to. “Don’t leave me…please.”

You cup his cheek and he purrs, melting into the touch as if he were a cat, pushing into you for more attention. Basking in your attention as you sweep his tears away with your thumb, letting him close his eyes and pull you into the soft cushioning of a booth. 

You feel heady or maybe it’s the alcohol talking. More tears roll down his cheeks, tracking along the slopes of his flushed face. Crystalline and sacred and you realize with a twist in the pit of your stomach that it’s arousing.

The sight of him. His sweat-soaked skin and his eyes big and glassy. And the fragile mask he’s worked so hard to keep up deteriorating beneath your very eyes, each tear breaking and cracking apart the image of the powerful man he claims to be.

A crumpled facade of a God into a something more, something divine and corrupt, something vulnerable and weak and so very human in your arms, falling apart by a mere touch.

Maybe you’re more fucked up than you realized. Maybe you’re just horny. Maybe because it’s him. And he’s Satoru Gojo and everything about him is perfect. Powerful. Transcendent. A God against humans, finally falling apart like this, before you, ready to fall to his knees. Perhaps he was always meant to.

“Don’t wanna be alone…don’t wanna…ngh~” 

His hips thrust up, a whiny gasp working past his lips. He pants as if he’s run a marathon and you want to do such delectably sinful things to him and you’re sure you could do them all and more and he’d only beg and plead for more.

Perhaps…

“Kiss me.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, you wonder if he can hear with how loud it is. “Satoru,”

He whines and grinds and you moan. And it’s a losing battle.

“Shut up,” he insists, hand cupping the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair, almost obsessively. “Shut up and just kiss me.”

“You know we can’t. You-“

“I, am perfectly fine.” His words are a pant, a plea, whispered with a kind of reverence of a worshipper to a god. “Just kiss me, fuck me. Use me,” white eyelashes flutter, blue looking all the bluer rimmed with red and filled with tears. “Use me until you’re bored of me, until there’s nothing left-i don’t care.” He breathes, desperate and pleading and looking like he’s ready to get down on his damn knees on the dirty sticky floor. “Just-please.”

A losing fucking battle. 

Maybe it always was. Trying to keep your hands off him, now, you realized it was like setting a treat on a dogs nose and telling them to wait. A crazy amount self control with the eventual prize just in sight. 

All you can think as you cup his cheeks, flushed and wet from tears, warm against your hands is how fucking pretty he is. How you want him more than you think you’ve ever wanted anything. “Fuck, Satoru,” you mutter and he moans deep and appreciatively and then you’re pulling him in to slide your lips against his.

 And now all you can think about is how much of a dumbass you are for not doing this sooner.

He tastes like alcohol and cigarettes-when he had one you don’t know but you do know that it’s the most intoxicating mix you’ve ever encountered. You feel like you’re floating, high off his taste and his moans; like he’s a drug and you’re the addict, injecting him straight into the vein. 

It's far from elegant and he’s not perfect at it in the way you’d expect from a man as beautiful as him-godhood hasn’t blessed him in every aspect. But he’s desperate and he's eager to take everything you give, mewling against your lips. 

He’s so needy and it's crazy the way it sends you into a sort of reverie. His hands gripping your hips hard, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go, like he’s hoping you’re real and not a apparition of drunken hysteria. He pulls you closer, as if you could get close enough that no one could find where you ended and he started, that you might be able to meld into one.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same sentiment. If you didn’t try your hardest to do the exact same; nails pressing into his skin, making him whine as you tilted his head back and slipped your tongue into his mouth, exploring, feeling, taking, using. 

Just like he told you to do.

He vibrates against you, nearly shaking with choked noises. He mutters soundless words, each and every one swallowed by you as soon as they’re spoken. Pleas and prayers, worships and praises. 

You’d show him what real ascension felt like.

You probably should be embarrassed, or at the very least shameful to be putting on such a show in front of what you know are watching eyes. But you know that Gojo is far past shame at this point and you're too enamoured by the beauty that is Satoru Gojo clinging to you like he’s about to break.

To be honest, you can't find it in yourself to give a shit about any of them. About anything but him, focusing your attention on devouring him whole as he shatters, ready to catch every piece as they fall into your waiting hands. No matter if the shards rip apart your skin and leave you a bloody mangled mess.

You break away first, fighting a smile at his whine as you pull away from him, panting. 

He looks unravelled, messy. His usual flirty facade lost to pleasure. His watery eyes and heartbroken whines gone as well. Overwhelmed by swollen lips and gasps to make up for lost air. A blush like he’s just realized where he is, burying his face into your neck to hide from the probing eyes. To whisper, "You're too good at that, you know?.”

You bark a laugh and he nuzzles into your skin. 

And then you’re redirecting him to your lips again.

In a flurry of hands and lips, messy steps and you’re clumsily stumbling into the bathroom. Quickly, Satoru is shoved against the door, fingers fumbling for the lock.

Your lips find his neck, fluttering a barrage of open-mouthed kisses over the heated skin, dragging your tongue along his thrumming heartbeat. 

He whines and he begs, muttering nonsense that makes it to your ears but not to your head as you hum against him. Slender fingers knit through your hair, holding you close to him, pleading for you to never leave him.

“Touch me, touch me, touch me.” He repeats, slurred and slow, his eyes drooped shut, his voice husky with want, with lust and everything he’s been just barely repressing all this time.

But you've only ever been a slave to his desires.

So you respond in tenfold, nipping and sucking, leaving evidence that you've been here, staking a claim that doesn't exist and maybe never will but for tonight maybe you can play pretend.

Because he keens when your teeth sink into his skin and his back arches, pressing evidence of his wanton yearnings against you like you might devour him whole.

Like he wants you to.

He quieter when he whispers something that could change everything. “Love me?”

Your heart pounds in your chest but you’d never turn him down. 

Fingers deftly undo the buttons on his tight-fitting button up, revealing porcelain-like skin underneath. His nipples are hard and pink and fucking pierced. 

He gasps when you touch them, pinching them between your thumb and forefinger.

And you've never been particularly mean but you can make an exception for the God in front of you, leaving him to tortuous touches all while he throbs and thrusts into nothing but the fabric of his too-tight pants, whining from the stimulation that's all too little.

He's been begging for this all night. Whispering dirty words like a little tease, like a shameless slut.

He got you all riled up and for that you think that he should take his own share of teasing.

For retribution, for your own piece of mind and the pleasure it is to watch him squirm against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and tearstained and begging in small breathless whimpers barely over a whisper.

But you've never been able to resist him long, not then, not now and not ever.

Your hand finally reaches for his waistband, his body shivering with the feeling of your fingers dipping onto hot, untouched skin.

But he stops you.

His hand, large and pale landing over your own in a quick moment of lucidity.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise because you could never leave him with any less. "Yes," your words a whispered caress, a undying oath in itself, a vow that you'd take beyond this in whatever may happen.

Your lips brush over his ear, his eyes squeezing shut as your hand wraps around him, dragging a ruinous moan from deep in his throat.

"I promise, I will."

And your hand is wrapping around him, hot and wet and hard, all for you. Just for you. And his head is turned off, just sensations and feeling and you.

Just you.

"F-fuck, yes, please," so broken, fragile almost as ironic as it is. "Yes, pl-please, feels so go-good."

He doesn't last long and you don't know if it's from all the teasing you've administered or from how long he's been worked up for.

But you rather like the thought of him being sensitive enough that your voice and a few strokes is enough to bring him to the edge.

To have him pulsing in your hand while his arms wrap around your shoulders, blunt nails scraping into you skin as his hips thrust with reckless abandon.

His body quivering with pleasure as your hand forms a loose hole for him to fuck into, your thumb playing with the sensitive head of his dick.

"Please, please I need it, need it so bad," And he has no right sounding this good, looking this good while fucking into your hand like a goddamn dog. "Need it more than anything."

He always has been one for dramatics.

His head falls back against the wall, throat bobbing with the moan deep in his throat, fuck how the marks of your teeth stand out on the pale skin of his neck. Your lips permanent on his body for now, forever maybe if he'll let you keep replacing them.

"Fuck, Satoru," You free hand threads through his head, pushing his lips to meet yours, messy and slopping as he arches against you, hips thrusting erratically to match your pace. Keening when you nip at him, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, nails scratching at his scalp sending tingles down every part of his body.

He breaks away with a gasp and a cry when and only when he absolutely has to, eyes shining and chest heaving with breaths to fill his burning lungs.

And he's crying. And he's beautiful.

More beautiful than anyone or anything you've ever seen in your life.

"Shit, I'm close, m' so fuckin' close-!"

You’re half out of your mind and you couldn’t feel more sane. Like this was meant to happen-like he was meant to be yours. 

"Don' stop, please don't stop," he gasps, like you'd ever think about it, like you'd could even if you wanted to.

“Satoru,” And he shakes.

“Satoru,” And he sobs.

“Satoru,” And he breaks, head falling back as if in prayer, a finger pushing his chin up, clashing against a higher power he didn't think possible.

“My one and only Satoru.” Soft and sweet and just for him and only him. And he’s gone.

Ropes of cum spurt out, rope after rope, covering your hand and the floor. Covering his thighs and his stomach in a mess.

Everything feels fuzzy and his cheeks are pink. A stupid grin crossing his face as he melts, boneless in your arms. "I love you." He mutters, distantly, foggily.

Perhaps somewhere beneath the haze he thinks that maybe you've said the same back. But he isn't quite sure anymore. He needs to be sure.

Slowly, he's lowered onto the floor into a sitting position. The tile is cold against his bare skin but it's okay because you're still caressing him, holding his face in your hand, thumb wiping at his tears.

"You love me right?"

You leave for moment and a whines at the loss of you pressed against him. Even if it's only for a few seconds he feels lonely and empty without your touch.

But then you're back and you're wiping him down with a wet towel, cleaning off his skin so gently, as if he's made of glass of porcelain, like he something to be cherished and taken care of.

"Hey pretty boy, you good?" He recognizes your voice even throughout the cloud in his mind. He nods and you smile and he's melting all over again.

"Do you love me?"

You roll your eyes and for an awful second he thinks that maybe you're going to say no. But then you're pushing the hair off his forehead and kissing him so fucking gently he thinks he'll cry.

"I do love you Satoru."

And his heart is bursting-he swears it is, it's beating so fast and so hard he's absolutely sure that you can hear it and that the quiet laughs escaping your pretty lips is because you can tell how dumbly in love with you he is.

But that doesn't matter.

Because right now he's normal person and you're a normal person and nothing else will matter but the fact that he's your's now.

"I love you too, y'know?" He mumbles.

You kiss him again, and again, and again. On his forehead and his temples, his cheeks and the tip of his nose and each of his eyelids. You kiss everywhere on his face until his lips are pouted out and he lets out a little whine of frustration.

And then you kiss his lips. Barely a peck, too fast and short for his taste but he doesn't have time to complain as you pull him off the floor.

“C’mon pretty boy, let me bring you home.”

“Mmm,” He doesn’t move, boneless against you. “Will you fuck me again?”

You laugh, soft. “Like I’d be able to resist you.”

[aurasy3ag3r]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐜.𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

☆ summary : Connie moves in next door to Yn and sparks fly. Despite their differences, they bond over their shared interest and dreams, as they spend more and more time together they become more than 'just neighbors'

☆ parings : chef connie x blackfem reader.

☆ wc : 800

A few weeks had gone by since you met Connie, and there wasn’t much communication—just a quick wave here and there, but nothing like the first night you met. Tonight, you could hear Connie hosting a “get-together” with his friends. You tried not to eavesdrop, but they were loud, and the walls were thin, so you couldn’t help it.

“Man, if you don’t invite her over, I’m gonna go over there and do it myself.” You were confused. Not wanting to assume they were talking about you, you moved your head closer to the wall. You couldn't hear much and ultimately decided what you were doing was weird, so you stopped.

‘Knock Knock’

“Huh.”

You were confused by the knock at your door. Maybe it was about you? When you opened the door, there stood two guys. One was tall like Connie, with brown hair in a cute little man bun and intense green eyes that you tried not to stare at. The other guy was a few inches taller than you, pale, and blonde. “Hi, we’re friends of Connie, and he’s being a wuss about inviting you over for some wine.” Your eyes widened at what the blonde boy said. What you heard was definitely about you. “He has some high-quality wine.” The taller guy smiled and pointed at Connie, who was at his door holding a bottle of wine, waiting for you to accept their invitation.

“I love wine.” “Perfect, come with us.” You giggled at the taller guy and followed them, closing your door behind you. You had on a long cardigan and a lounge dress underneath, while everyone else looked dressed up. When you walked into the apartment, it felt like a whole other building. Your apartment was full of art, while Connie’s lacked it. Seeing his apartment, you thought of all the places where your art could fit. “Hi, neighbor, sorry about those two.” You smiled, and Connie handed you a glass of wine. It was delicious—sweet but not too sweet, just the way you liked your wine. “Connie, are you gonna introduce us?” You looked over at the few people on Connie’s couch and waved.

“Obviously, this is my neighbor, Yn. And Yn, these are my friends. You met Eren and Armin; that’s Sasha and Mikasa; and Jean is the one on the floor.” You nervously waved at everyone, and they waved back. “Come over here; I’m gonna pour you a glass of wine.” You walked over to Connie’s counter, away from his friends. “I was told you have some good wine.” Connie chuckled as he poured a glass of red wine. He slid over the glass, and you almost immediately took a small sip. Eren did not lie; his wine was amazing.

“I’ve been meaning to go over and cook for you.” Your eyes widened, and you took another sip of the wine. “Well, I’ve been waiting to try some of your food. Why haven’t you come over?” You placed the glass down and waited for Connie to answer. “To be honest, I was nervous.” “Nervous? I don’t bite.” Connie playfully rolled his eyes, and you giggled at his reaction. “A pretty girl like you makes me nervous.” Connie made his way closer to where you stood. “Well, we can have a celebratory dinner on Saturday if you’d like.” Connie smiled and nodded. “What are we celebrating?”

“Well, I’m hosting an art show on Friday. It’s not my first, but it’s my biggest art show yet.” Connie paid attention to how excited you got talking about your art show. “And I would love to invite you and your friends if you want to go. It’s downtown, nothing too fancy.” “I would love to go; I bet they would too. Right, guys?” Connie looked over at his friends, and they all looked confused. “Sorry, we can’t hear you over Sasha and Jean arguing.” “Yn is hosting an art show on Friday, and she invited us.”

The rest of the night went smoothly. You got to know his friends better and spent the rest of the night playing games and drinking more wine. Apparently, too much wine, because now you were alone with Connie, dying of laughter watching Spongebob.

“Fuck, it’s getting late; I should head home now.” Connie frowned but helped you get up from the floor. “We could also just have a sleepover.” You giggled at Connie, and he smiled. “Maybe another day.” Connie held the door open for you and followed you until you arrived at your door. “I had a really good time tonight. Your friends were really cool too.” “I’m glad you had a good time. Hope we can do it again, without my crazy friends.” You giggled and softly slapped Connie’s shoulder. “They were great. I’ll make sure to send you six tickets for Friday.” Connie smiled. He was looking forward to buying some of your art.

“Well, goodnight, pretty lady.” You blew Connie a kiss as he walked backwards to his apartment like a dummy.

hope yall enjoyed ... AND I KNOWWWWW its been a while yall im sorryyyyyyyyyyyy please accept my apology with this :)))

I will be posting some sports fics soon (;;;

[lazyneonrabbitt]

MarchWeres NSFW prompt

Predator/Prey

Dwight x reader

Running up and down the stairs of the Sanctuary was not how you had planned to spend your afternoon.

It had been two weeks since Negan had successfully gotten your boyfriend bitten by the beast he captured and the effects were getting painfully clear now.

Dwight never snapped at you before, now he got agitated by even a loud breath and today it got so bad you walked out of the late night emergency meeting.

Which is why he was chasing you now, up the staircase and stumbling over his feet in rage. You heard him closing in on you, his growling breaths and heavy boots getting closer to the corner you stood behind to catch your breath. You had to get away from him, he scared you now. Whatever he was it wasn't your sweet lover who'd use his high rank to bring you food.

"Now, now. You're not making this much fun, getting caught so easily." This Dwight scared you. He always loved you sweet and delicately and now in those last few days all you saw in his bright glowing eyes was hunger.

"Ahw come on, honey. I'll make it fair and let you run some more. Go!" He wouldn't round the corner, his entire body felt like it was burning, his skin crawling and his mind howling at him to catch you. His girlfriend. His mate.

You sprinted at his "Go!" and took sharp turns up the emergency stairs in the hopes of losing him and ended up on the roof. The door wouldn't lock from the outside so your best shot was to round the small bit of walls surrounding the entry and stay still.

He didn't lose you, he had your scent and easily sniffed you out.

Each step he took after getting onto the roof took a toll on his humanity. You heard his growling breaths and deep, animalistic sniffs to find you, and when he did he wasn't Dwight. Scraps of fabric hung on his frame, remnants of your favorite shirt of his and strips of his jeans dangled as his tail swayed from side to side. He stood taller than before and the only way you could even still recognize the creature as Dwight was the fur color and the burned half of his face.

So even the all healing curse couldn't reverse Negan's torture. He missed an ear in this form, too.

His low growls had you frozen in place, unable to run because he's catch you anyways. He was already skinny as a human, but in this form it was even worse. The long legs and pointed claws, long thin snout it was all so lanky.

You were too scared to take your eyes off him as he approached, leaning down and sniffing at you before grabbing at you and tossing you aside. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to bruise later.

The beast had space now, able to easily move around and pull at your limbs to get you where he wanted. He might have not been your Dwight in your eyes, but the beast still had his emotions. It became clear when you looked him over.

"Man, it sucks dates ate barely a thing anymore in this world.." You two sat next to each other on the staircase, enjoying a sandwich in peace. It was one of the few moments you had together. Lunch. Your shifts barely ever lined up and all the time you shared in your room was spent sleeping. "Yeah. I'm sorry, honey. I should get us a day off to just do nothing."

He always apologized, even when he didn't need to. "Hey, I'll even take a rooftop picknick. Maybe late night snacks and then fuck on the roof?" It was mostly a joke, no way of having any privacy anywhere in or around the building except for in your room. But still he laughed and agreed joking. "Yeah, sounds good to me."

The creature sat hunched over you with its muzzle barely an inch from your cheek. You felt its sniffing breaths on your skin but were too distracted by other things to mind it. The memory of your shared stairway lunch flashed by as you stared down his body and your eyes landed on his erect cock.

"Dee?" He growled and pressed his wet nose to your skin and pawed at your clothes.

"Okay, it is still you, right honey?" Your hands still hadn't moved as you watched him nod. The panic in your system started to fade slowly as you followed his movements and understanding you had no other way out than to give him his treat for capturing his prey. He won his game so he expects a prize.

He was still your Dwight, so you saw no real problem as long as he stayed calm like this.

"Okay, okay. Calm down with the claws, I'll help." He pauzed immediately, following your hands as they did the delicate work of unbuttoning your pants and unlooping the elastic from the button to pull down your zip. But as soon as that was done he was back to pulling at the fabric to get you naked.

He didn't lose his eagerness. His movements even mimiced those of his human self so you knew what was happening and when, so you knew you had to toe off your shoes before he yanked your pants down and went to push up your shirt and lap at your stomach and chest. He loved the softness and went to grab at your hips to pull you against him. It gave you a moment to unclasp your bra and within a second his tongue found your now uncovered tits.

You were so dustracted that the prod of his tip against your entrance caught you off guard and you you yelped a bit. His rumbling laugh relaxed you immediately after as he started working his way inside of you less careful than you were used to.

Little groans of pain left you but Dwight disn't seem to hear you, too lost in how good you felt. His tongue hanging out of his parted maw as he thrust into you lazily now that he was fully in.

The roll of his hips quickly turned pleasurable and your groans turned into whines and moans while your hands found his fur to hold onto and your legs wrappes around his hips.

Dwight started to grt sloppy, thrusts uneven and grumbling incoherently as he worked you both to your highs. His clawed hamd grabbed yours to lead it down bwtween the two of you, not wanting to accidentally scratch you with his claws, so you went to rub at your clit for him, just the way he'd always do for you.

With your walls clamping around him so deliciously he didn't need long before he shovee himself inside down to the base and spilling deep within you, the stretch of his knot pressing at all the right spots and pulling you over the edge with him.

When you both came back down you gave each other a look and couldn't help but laugh.

He might have lost his ability to speak in thia form, but the soft nuzzling against your cheek said enough.

[bezierballad]

So I’ve talked a bit about my Black Butler OCs, the Sinclair Inn Servants in the past, but I thought maybe I’d go a bit deeper into them.

Like Sebastian, Napoleon is the usual typical soul-eating contract-making demon we’ve seen in the Black Butler world. Unlike Sebastian, he couldn’t really give any less of a damn about this “fasting” nonsense. A demon’s gotta eat after all, otherwise they’ll basically go absolutely mad.

As for Tobias and Maria? They’re demons too, of course. But they’re wired a bit differently. A “subspecies”of demon, if you will.

Let me explain.

First and foremost, they don’t survive on human souls, but on human flesh and blood. I don’t exactly have a name for these kinds of demons, but for the sake of this post we’ll call them “flesh-eaters”. (And for soul-consuming demons like Sebastian, Hannah, Claude, etc. we’ll refer to them as “soul-eaters”.)

In Hell’s hierarchy (if that even exists in Black Butler) flesh-eaters are ranked lower than the soul-eaters, which leads to my next point.

When a soul-eater makes a contract with a human, the demon is considered a “servant”, obeying the human’s orders until the contract is complete, devouring the human’s soul as a reward.

These flesh-eating demons are considered “servants” to soul-eating ones. (Think like the demon triplets from Kuroshitsuji II, who were Hannah’s subordinates. In fact, I actually headcanon that they’re flesh-eaters.) 

The flesh-eater(s) accompanies the soul-eater demon (who “hires” them as subordinates) and often assist them in completing whatever contract the soul-eater makes with a human. They obey the soul-eater’s orders and are required to be at his or her side at almost all times.

As for their reward? Soul-eaters eat the human contractor’s souls (obviously) while flesh-eaters feed on the soulless bodies left over. So at the end of each completed contract, they both get a nice meal. (If they’re ordered to kill someone, they feast off the corpse of that too.)

Another difference between soul-eaters and flesh-eaters is that soul-eaters move onto another human to form a contract with. 

Flesh-eaters are required to always serve a soul-eater even after a contract is completed. (They get a lot more food this way.) The only way they can actually move onto someone else is if the soul-eater is killed by a reaper.

Also, quick thing about their physical appearances. Or rather, their “true demon” forms:

Soul-eaters are this constantly shifting black mist (we see this with Sebastian in the Blue Memory arc.)

Flesh-eaters are… well, more “human” but also kind of not?

Imagine something like the Rake; humanoid hairless creature with long appendages, extremely long sharp claws and teeth, and white eyes void of any pupils or irises. Their limbs and torso are also extremely thin and lanky. And they’re extremely tall. Like, at least a good few inches taller than the average adult human being.

Those are the true demon forms of flesh-eaters.

Of course, like soul-eaters, these guys can shapeshift into pretty much whatever form, and they can choose to take on a much more settling human form. (Sometimes their eyes or their teeth might slip out though. Sometimes.)

Honestly I can go on and on about this, but I think I’ve gone on long enough lmao. Hopefully that made sense.

If you guys have any questions about my OCs or their lore, feel free to send an ask! ^^

[saltandseawater]

Torn Red Abyss Part 1: In Which Kiran Has a Smoke

Masterpost | Next

Kiran Adhikari took a long drag off their cigarette as they tiptoed on the toilet to lean out the bathroom window, hissing the thin line of smoke out from between their teeth.

Beneath them, the party had spilled out into the backyard, a small throng of people enjoying the cool sting of a fall night before it would really bite. They had no idea why they thought going to a party like this was a good idea. The bass of the music thrummed through the floor of the second story bathroom that bumped rudely against the existence of their inner ear, a living beast of a noise.

The suck of nicotine on their teeth was the only thing that was keeping them together and that wasn’t going to last long. It was probably hypocritical of them to smoke so much while they were literally studying to be a doctor, but they had long given up on quitting, except to make a halfhearted attempt to keep their colleagues from seeing.

The sound of the door clicking open from behind them made Kiran jump, fumbling the cigarette, thankfully dropping it on the windowsill rather than on some poor sod’s head below. “Shit,” they said.

“Well,” said the person at the door. They were a striking picture, with a red lip against pale skin, broad, muscled shoulders in a sleeveless turtleneck over cargo pants and combat boots. Long dark hair curtained around extravagant gold earrings and one raised, elegant eyebrow. “That desperate to take the edge off?”

“Fuck,” Kiran swore, hopping down from the toilet. “Don’t tell Roman, I heard he’s trying to quit.”

The woman, they assumed she was a woman, though in this house of the genderfucked, it was hard to say, just laughed and flicked the vent in the bathroom off. “I don’t think you can fix it,” she said. “It stinks in here and I don’t think the window’s helping. Can I bum one?” She smiled a shark’s smile as she pressed a hip against the sink, settling.

No, Kiran almost wanted to say. Cigs were expensive and they didn’t have that much money. But she unmistakably flirting and when was the last time someone flirted with them? Wordlessly, they pulled out their half empty carton and offered it to her. She was taller than they were by a few good inches, and she leaned forward to select a cigarette with one long sturdy finger. She could probably bench them.

“I’ll light it for you too, if you give me your name,” they offered, gathering their courage.

She grinned back at them. “Dominique,” she said, placing the butt of the cigarette between her lips and presenting to it them. “But you can call me Dom.”

Kiran felt a hot, hard blush go through them as they brought out their cheap Bic lighter and flicked it on. They cleared their throat, embarrassed. “A little early for that, aren’t we?” they said, lifting the lighter so it caught the end of the tobacco.

She laughed, leaning back again so she could take a good suck on the cigarette and blow it back out towards the vent. “What, are you game for it?” she said. “You haven’t even told me your name.”

They flushed again, though they knew it wouldn’t be very visible through the dark brown of their skin. “Kiran,” they said. “Maybe. Maybe I’m game for it. But it’s still early.”

Kiran didn’t have extensive experience with actually participating in BDSM. They spent the majority of the time watching at the public dungeon, wondering at the human capacity for pain and pleasure. The pain of split skin, bruises and lashes, the subtle, sick pleasure of watching it happen, of submission to a greater force. It touched Kiran in some place they never wanted to name, but could never resist pressing against.

It was at the public dungeon where they had met Roman and his husband Andreas, the two trans men who were hosting this party, a celebration of everything queer and kinky. Suddenly the music didn’t feel too overwhelming, with Dominique’s interest.

“Well Kiran,” Dominique said, taking their cigarette from her mouth and surveying them intently. Her eyes were a particularly sharp shade of blue. “Maybe I’m game for it too.”

It took every bone in their body not to immediately self-deprecate. They were small, mousy, their chin scarred with attempts at shaving the teenager’s first awkward facial hairs that sprouted when they started taking testosterone. Deep bags from insomnia were set under a perpetual glare, and they only just managed to gather the mess of their shoulder length hair into a small pony tail. They didn’t feel like they warranted that hot pointed gaze, looking as though they were some tender morsel she wanted to savor.

Instead they reached up to grab the remains of their own cigarette from the window sill, relighting it before putting it back to their mouth.

“What kind of game are you looking for?” Kiran asked, settling back against the wall. They arranged their limbs somewhat self consciously, fingers clutched in their sweater.

Somewhat predictably, Dominique said, “I’m a dom.” She grinned, mischievous. “You can imagine the number of puns I endure.”

Kiran snorted, sneaking a look over at her as she took another long drag. “You don’t seem to be all that broken up about it,” they noted. “I’m more of a switch.” They twitch the cigarette, hands steadier after the injection of nicotine straight into the blood stream.

“Yeah?” Dominique said, her booted foot finding its way to press against their ankle. “You got a preference between the two?”

“I’m still deciding,” Kiran said, the touch sending electric impulses up their leg. They press their leg back up against hers in return. “How do you know Roman and Andreas?”

She snorted. “Andy and I are old friends, we go back ages, before he even transitioned. You?”

Kiran half shrugged. “Met Roman at Cross, the dungeon-”

“Oh I’m aware,” Dominique said. “I go there too. I guess we’ve just missed each other.”

“I haven’t been there very often,” Kiran replied, tapping the ash from the cigarette into the toilet. “So it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“You’re new to the scene then?” she asked.

“Yeah, fairly.”

“Did you come here looking for someone to play with?” Dominique probed. “Someone a little more long term than asking people at demonstrations if they’d be willing to give you a shot?”

Kiran swallowed.

That had been exactly the idea, a faint and vague hope that had really borne very little fruit. Kiran did not do well at large house parties, a fact they had established at the few of them they had gone to in undergrad. Hoping that a house party, albeit one that was both queer and kinky, would be what did it for them was frankly a hopeless idea.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” she said, nudging their foot. “It’s natural to want to be wanted, isn’t it?”

Kiran exhaled a breath they didn’t remember holding. “Yes,” they admitted. “I suppose so. But it depends on the manner of wanting.”

The light in the bathroom was growing hazy with the smoke they were blowing into the air, only so much of it wisping out of the open window. The animal blue of Dominique’s eyes was difficult to look at, so Kiran didn’t, bracing their feet against the floor as they leaned against the wall, hunched over and clutching the remains of burnt paper in their fingertips.

Then Dominique reached out. Her cigarette was smoked almost all the way down to the butt, but she still held it between her forefingers as she brushed her finger tips against their hand. Kiran suddenly found it more difficult to breathe, to think, their focus narrowed down to that one touch.

“How do you think I might want you?” she asked, her voice low, shifting in to stand right in front of them, standing between their legs as she leaned in.

Their eyes flicked up to hers in turn. This was a bad idea waiting to happen but it had also been so long since Kiran had sex of any kind.

“You want to fuck me,” they said, tilting their chin upwards, almost defiantly.

“Bullseye,” she murmured, taking her hand and gripping their chin pulling them close. “I'd like to make you make pretty little moans.”

“Nothing about me is pretty,” they stated, flat, a fact, but still allowed her to tug their chin up. Their faces were close enough for them to feel her breath on their mouth.

“I beg to differ,” she murmured. “You’re adorable. And what do you want, Kiran?”

Her lips around their name shouldn’t feel so electric. Kiran licked their lips.

“I think,” they said. “I want to have sex with a perfect stranger and never have to talk about it again.”

She grinned back at them, toothsome. “I think that can be arranged.”

All it took was a tiny movement to make their lips touch and for a long, long moment, Kiran lost track of time completely.

[estevesia-whump]

hell's right hand (1.21): from the shadows

CW/TW: captivity, violence, blood, vomit, (a child gets slapped in the face but is fine otherwise), malnutrition

as the continuation of 1.2, this chapter goes through one of the videos liexia & aurelie end up finding to get a better idea of what happened in that building, it's from kyre's pov.

-

-> video1.mp4 [play]

Was it the authorities he last spoke to? No, it must've been that private investigator, or so he called himself...

When the bag is removed from over his head, Kyre finds himself in a small room with maybe ten other kids. Nine, actually, after counting properly. He's for sure the only one who's at least eighteen, maybe the only that's above sixteen, but it's difficult to tell because most of them have small, gaunt faces and bones that stick out at the elbows.

No one speaks, but many of them sniffle every once in a while, a weak cry proportionate to their (lack of) body frame.

It's unclear to Kyre how much time goes by before a tall, lanky man enters the room, slamming the heavy door behind him. He doesn't even open his mouth until the echo is gone, and then when he does speak, his voice booms.

"This is where you'll be staying from now on. You are to obey and to serve without question."

"Who will we be... serving?" one of the slightly older children squeaks.

The man repeats himself, hardly even eyeing the speaker. "Without question."

Kyre stays quiet, but the other children don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

"Wh-where's my mom?"

"I needa pee, mist'r!"

"Are you gonna hurt us?"

"S'cuse me? I'm hungry."

"You're not gonna hurt us, are you?"

A clean smack across the first kid's face shuts everyone up.

"We will break each and every one of your bones if you don't listen to our instructions," the man shouts, a gun pointed not at any specific person, but everyone. "Understand?"

Suddenly infuriated, Kyre shoots up, lunging at the thin man and pressing him against the wall. The gun clatters to the side as he squeezes the older man's wrist. More of the children behind him begin crying, but aside from the ringing in his ears and the faint red coating his vision, he truly cannot hear or see anything else.

"I see you dare to defy me," the man drawls, spitting at Kyre.

Before he can properly filter the words through his brain, Kyre's begging. "Please don't hurt them. Do any-anything you want to me, but don't... not the others. Please."

The man snickers, but his voice has dropped to a smooth timbre. "Are you sure about that, dearest? Will you agree to all our conditions?"

"As long..." Kyre licks his chapped lips, "as long as you don't hurt the others. In any way." I'll keep the kids safe and find us a way out.

He's cackling now, and every one of his gleeful expressions only makes Kyre more uneasy. "Oh, of course. You said you'd do anything, hmm?"

"I... yes."

"Then let go."

Kyre loosens his hold, and he's kicked down so that he's kneeling before the taller man, who unlocks the door.

"Everyone but this boy, out."

The children scramble to leave with soft but quick footsteps. It's quiet for a moment after the door closes, and Kyre's eyes dart around for an escape. But other than the door, and the out-of-reach window narrow enough to allow only a few papers through, he's out of luck.

"You don't understand what we do here, do you?" he snarls, inching closer to Kyre.

The first kick lands on Kyre's shoulder, effectively knocking him on his side, but Kyre manages to grab the other man's leg, rolling to pull him down.

Three more men -- bigger, stronger ones -- bang open the door as Kyre smashes fist after fist into the thin man's face until he's bleeding from the back of his head and the nose, completely limp.

Kyre's knuckles are torn and raw already but he forces himself to stand up in a fighting stance again, ready to face off against the burly men in tactical gear. If he's going down, he's not going down without a fight.

He tries going for the legs again, but is quickly kneed in the stomach and shoved back onto the ground.

"Stop fighting and we'll take it easy on you," one of the men warns, pressing on to his neck while twisting his arm. Ignoring the pain from the nearly dislocated shoulder, Kyre rolls onto his back, preparing to kick.

He's punched in the cheek before he can make another move, though, the side of his face pressing against the concrete.

Flickering stars dance in his vision as the familiar taste of metal fills his mouth, crimson red pooling beside him. Is it his blood?

Kyre moves himself onto his side, trying to get rid of the spinning feeling, but to no avail.

A kick to the abdomen jostles his organs, forcing a torrent of sour vomit out onto the puddle of blood. Going unconscious would be convenient right about now, but his body just won't give up for some reason.

Kyre's able to take a few more gut kicks without throwing up, but the nausea increases nonetheless, as do the dull throbs throughout his body. The bruises and cuts are fine; they'll heal by themselves quickly enough, but he'll have to do something about the nausea.

He kicks someone's shin, and then groin as he pushes himself away from the blood and vomit. The gun's in the corner of the room; if he can just grab the gun--

A strong punch knocks the wishful thinking right out of his head, and Kyre's entire body drops against the concrete, more bruises blossoming all over his scraped skin.

When one of the men grabs his wrists, pinning him down, he twists, sending a needle-like pain through his shoulder and down his right side. Before he can stop himself, he lets out a groan, his muscles relaxing on their own.

The men take advantage of this immediately, pressing every one of his limbs down on the ground as Kyre coughs. His throat burns when he does, springing tears to his eyes as he lays there, completely spent.

"You done fighting now?" someone asks, and Kyre's eyes flutter closed, too exhausted to stay open.

[soulsunforgiven]

finally home. that was... nice. i needed a nice day.

[doxypsychlean]

is there a part 2 to Strong maybe bit of smut

Strong pt.2

Aegon ii Targaryen x Strong!Reader

Previous chapter: Strong pt.1

Warnings: Targcest, Explicit language, NSFW content, Blood, Aegon beats up Aemond(not that bad, I swear)

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

Additional info: Instead of Rhaenyra escorting the Strong fellas back to Dragonstone, they all stay in the Red Keep(just imagine it for a sec that Alicent begged her ass off and got Rhaenyra to stay, cs she wants to spend more time w her(this is my fkn world and in it, these two make up idc)

A/N: Ooop, here it fkn issss!!! Ngl, I was cackling like a middleschooler while writing the spicy part of this one. Welp... Cheers, you horny bastards!!!

P.S. I fkn lied, this is nowhere near close to the req. Sorry, dear Anon.

A choked up sob came out of the Prince's mouth as he rubbed the linen washcloth over the bitemarks on his neck. Tears welled up in his eyes, but Aegon was quick to blink them away, before the woman could see.

She was sat across him, on the edge of the bed, watching him as Aegon dabbed away the blood. She was already dressed, in a long, bell-sleeved green gown that showed off every curve of hers. Aegon sneaked a glance at her deep neckline, then quickly averted his eyes.

The woman noticed it immediately, eyes never leaving his face. She ran a soft hand over her shoulder and pushed her long, dark hair out of the way, so it could trail down her back.

"Our mothers, along with your sister, Baela and Rhaena are in the gardens." She said, voice gone back to its usual cushiness. "They invited me to join them. I trust you will behave?"

The silver haired man flinched at her question. His hands dropped down to his lap, pulling at the washcloth as his eyes looked down at the dirty sheets.

Behave. Behave. Behave.

"Love?" Her eyes narrowed, word coming out rough and low.

Aegon flinched again. He looked up at her, head shaking up and down violently. She let out an amused hum, then got up on her feet.

"Good." She was now standing next to him, one hand reaching up to his face. She took in the angry bruise she'd awarded him with the night before. Then the faint imprints of her hand that covered his face, neck and chest. The rest staying hidden from her eyes by the sheet Aegon had covered his lower half with. "You're so good."

Aegon whined, the pathetic sound reverberating in his head. Before he had time to curse himself out for it, her fingers hooked under his chin. He turned to face her, hands clutching and pulling at the washcloth.

"My brothers are with Aemond and Ser Criston, in the training grounds." She said, thumb running over his bottom lip. "You'll join them."

It wasn't a question, but an order. One he wasn't brave enough to not follow. Not after the things his sweet,sweet wife had done to him throughout the previous night.

"That's it." The woman laughed out as she bent forward, lips meeting with those of Aegon. "I must go, my love. Get ready, then head down. You'll find clothes on the chair over there."

His pale eyes shot open, following to where her hand was pointing at. He nodded once more, head falling down after. The Prince put the washcloth on the nightstand as he got up.

Although he was a few good inches taller than her, Aegon felt incredibly small. Weak. Worthless. Undeserving.

He hissed as her hands wrapped around his wrists, successfully getting her to pull away. For a bit. Then she grabbed him again, this time much more gently, and brought them up so she could take a closer look.

The porcelain skin was now red and swollen. The ropes had left behind thin, angry traces where they'd cut in, marring the blank canvas Aegon was.

"I am sorry, my dragon." She whispered as she peppered his inner wrists with soft, apologetic kisses.

"It's fine." The Prince finally spoke out, his voice hoarse and trembling. He was smiling down at her, trying to bite back another hiss. "I...enjoyed it."

The brunette looked up at him, plump lips meeting with the red skin for the last time before she let go. Her arms wrapped around his neck, body pressing close to his.

Aegon rubbed his bruised cheek against hers, melting in her hands.

"My dragon..." She trailed off, pulling him impossibly close to herself. "I love you."

Aegon whined again, the tears now falling freely from his eyes. His hands reached for her hips, nails digging into the green silk of the gown that covered them.

"Say it again..." He was falling apart, body shaking with the intensity of the sobs that left his mouth. "Please."

The woman kept quiet. The fingers that were rubbing small circles on the back of his head, stopped moving.

"Please." Aegon needed to hear it. Especially after the cruel words she'd punished him with the night before. "Tell me you love me. Please."

Love me. Love me. Love me.

But she didn't say it. Instead, she unwrapped her arms from around him. The Prince almost fell to his knees at the loss of contact.

"Get dressed." She turned around, walking towards the doors of their chambers.

Aegon became painfully aware of the pitiful state he was in- naked, crying and begging, covered in endless amount of bruises, scratches and marks. He tried to put himself back together, to wipe the broken expression off his face. But there was no point.

In just a few hours, she'd completely destroyed whatever it was, that was left of the Prince. He had no ground to stand on. Not anymore. He could yell in her face, break her to pieces, even kill her. But she'd die, knowing she won. Knowing that she'd broken him in, taken him down to being this sad, miserable excuse of a person.

"I love you." Her voice reached Aegon's ears. "I truly do."

Then she was gone.

────────────

"What happened to you?" Aemond asked as his brother approached him. He lowered his sword, signaling to Criston he'd take a break.

The knight offered a small nod, then turned his attention to the younger boys who were standing off to the side.

"Got into some trouble last night?" The one-eyed prince teased.

Aegon's head shot up, eyes staring up at his younger brother in shock. How did he find out, he heard his trembling voice inside his head. His legs almost gave out at the thought of Aemond knowing what she'd done to him. His brother already looked down on him, what must he be thinking now, that he knew his big brother was used like a whore.

"Told you that you shouldn't be going out into the city alone..." Prince Aemond said, hand reaching for Aegon's shoulder.

Aegon bit down a groan as his brother's hand came down on one of the bitemarks. He shook his head, his usual smug grin coming back on his face to cover the pain.

"It was nothing, don't worry about it." A relieved breath escaped through Aegon's words. Fortunately, Aemond didn't notice it.

The long-haired man lowered his hand, eyeing Aegon up and down suspiciously. There was nothing out of the ordinary. His brother looked a bit tired, a bit disheveled. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

He looked away for a second, then his eye came back to Aegon.

"What in the Seven Hells are you wearing?"

Aegon was sporting a high-collared black doublet, black pants and leather boots. That's not what shocked Aemond. It was the red shirt that showed underneath the doublet. The red cord it was embroidered with. The three-headed dragon pin on his chest.

Then his eye trained on Aegon's hands. The ridiculously large gold ring was resting on his little finger of his right hand. On his left thumb, however, was a simple steel band ring. One that had the sigil of House Strong on it.

Aegon turned red as he noticed the way his brother was inspecting him.

"Leave it be." He whispered, eyes going back to their nephews, who were now swinging at Ser Criston. "It doesn't concern you."

Aemond wrapped one gand around the back of Aegon's neck, eliciting a pained growl from his brother.

"You didn't get that nasty bruise out in the streets, did you?" Aemond teased, eye darting to his brother now and then. "No shame, brother. I honestly expected for your Strong lady to put you in your place way sooner."

Aegon didn't dare say a word. He stood there, allowing his baby brother to make his cruel joke.

"Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond..." Criston's voice rang out. "Would you join us? We have to even the odds."

Aemond turned nodded, then took a step forward. He turned suddenly, spinning on one heel.

"Would anyone blame me if that little bastard lost an eye whilst sparring?" He said with that smirk of his. "Do you think your Strong lady will come after me, do to me what she did to you?"

And there it was, the straw that broke the camel's back. Aegon's back.

He lunged at his brother, knocking him to the ground. With his newfound strength, it only took a few blows to the face for Aemond to pass out, his head bouncing up and down with every hit.

Ser Criston, Luke and Jace reached them in no time. They tried to pull Aegon off, but the Prince simply refused to let go. The rage had blinded him, all he could see was his brother's bloodied face.

But it wasn't the cruel jokes. Nor was it Aemond threatening to take their nephew's eye out. It was him, suggesting that the Princess would put her hands on Aemond the way she'd done to Aegon.

That was for him. The pain, the humiliation,the punishment. All his. No one else's. His alone.

"Aegon!"

And just like that, Prince Aegon let go. He allowed for Criston to pull him to his feet and away from Aemond.

All his. No one else's. His alone.

He shook off Cole's hands, then turned to stare at her. Waiting. For her to storm over to him, and show everyone where his place was. To show to his mother, his sisters, his cousins, his nephews.

But nothing came. She stood there, at the top of the steps, staring down at him. One hand extended out towards Aegon. Drawing him, guiding him.

He didn't notice how Alicent ran past him, nor did he see how she dropped to her knees, next to Aemond's unconscious body. He didn't notice the scared and confused looks on his nephews faces or the way his half-sister, Rhaenyra, looked from her daughter to him with a smug grin.

All he could see was her.

Aegon followed the woman into the Red Keep and up the steps, towards their chambers.

────────────

"Why?" She asked, flopping down on the bed.

He didn't respond. Aegon was too busy trying to undo the clasps of his doublet to notice she'd said something.

"Come here..." She murmured, hand reaching out for him just like it had out there.

He heard her this time. Without wasting any time he strode over, only stopping when he had to look down to get a good look of her face.

They stood there like that for a bit, neither saying a word.

Then she spread her legs slowly, making room for him.

"Closer, I can't reach you."

The Prince took another step forward, now standing between her legs.

"I asked you a question." She said softly, fingers quickly undoing the clasps, then the buttons of his shirt. "Why did you do it?"

"He threatened to take your brother's eye out."

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Aegon." Her whole demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. There was no gentleness to her anymore. She tugged at the strings of his breeches, untying them with one swift move. "So why? I want the truth."

Aegon Targaryen had never shied away from a woman's touch the way he did when his wife's fingers ran down his happy trail. He sucked in a breath.

"He..." The Prince turned to look out the opened windows.

"What did he do?" She looked up at him, two fingers hooking at the front of his pants and tugging down.

"He asked if you'd do what you did to me, if he were to take his eye out." Aegon admitted, shaking his clothes of his body.

"And that made you knock Aemond out cold because..." The woman almost laughed at her own words. Aegon got him good, she couldn't deny it.

She watched as his breeches fell to the ground, freeing Aegon from the tight grasp they had on him. He let out a hiss as the cold air touched him, his already hard cock slapping against his lower abdomen.

Aegon looked away again, too ashamed of how much effect she had on him.

Two hungry eyes were staring down at the head of his cock, deep shade of pink and already leaking.

"Because...?" She teased, hand wrapping around him.

Aegon let out a deep moan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. His pale face was turning red, making the purple bruise on his cheek stand out even more.

He hissed as she dragged her hand up and down the length of his cock at a painfully slow pace. The soreness of the night before still lingered, making every inch of his body scream in agony. Still, he found himself coming to love the feeling. The pain. The humiliation. The punishment.

"Because I don't want you to touch anyone else the..." His breath hitched as the brunette bent down a bit and licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock.

She felt him twitch slightly, making her let out an amused huff. A shiver ran down Aegon's back when he felt her warm breath hit him. His hand came to rest at the back of her head, gently massaging the skin underneath his fingers.

The sensation of her wet tongue dissappeared once she reached the tip, leaving the man to thrust his hips into the air. Then her full lips wrapped around the head, her tongue circling around it. She let out a low hum, the sound reverberating throughout his whole body.

"I don't want you to do what you did to me last night to anyone else!" He cried out, almost toppling over at the feeling of her tongue rubbing over the slit of his cock. "Just me..."

Her lips left him with a loud pop, the woman laughing softly at it. She wiped away the mixture of precum and saliva from her lips as she looked up at him.

"Just you, my dragon." She said as her hands wrapped around his wrists gently, guiding them towards her shoulders. "Help me get it off."

Aegon looked at her with a dumbstruck look on his face. His confusion didn't prevent him from sliding down the garment past her shoulders.

"You're not angry at me?" He asked.

"Quite the opposite..." The brunette said as she got up, leaving barely any space between their faces. "I'm proud of you, my brave dragon."

Another whine escaped Aegon as he slid his hands down her body, ridding her of her green gown. He pulled her close, their chest pressing against together.

He hid his face in the crook of her neck, planting wet, needy kisses on the skin there. Aegon lifted her up, the woman wrapping her legs around his waist quickly. He climbed on the bed while still holding her.

"I'm so sorry..." He said as he pulled away to look at her. "About yesterday. I didn't mean it, I just wanted to get a reaction from..."

She cut him short, pushing him off of her and then climbing on top of Aegon. On hand reached up to cover his mouth, the other going to his throat.

"I know." The Princess said, grinding down on him.

Aegon moaned from behind her hand, thrusting up. The grip she had on his throat got stronger. He stilled, his breathing did too.

The hand on his face turned, until her thumb was pressing down on his lips. He opened his mouth, tongue swirling around the single digit, cheeks hollowing as he sucked in.

"So good..." She whispered, her other hand sliding down his body and dissappearing between them. "So fucking good. For me."

Aegon's eyes fluttered shut as she wrapped her fingers around his cock, head shaking up and down with a choked moan.

"So brave..." The woman raised up slightly as she guided his cock to her, rubbing it over her slick cunt. "My brave dragon."

He bit down on her thumb as the tip of his cock entered her. The woman hissed, but didn't pull away. Instead, she hooked her other fingers under his chin, then shook slowly.

"Try not to bite it off or I'll have to return the favor." She joked, eyes darting from him to where their bodies met.

Both let out a chuckle, the sound soon getting replaced by Aegon's whines.

"Move." He unwrapped his lips from around her thumb, teeth still holding it in place. "Please."

"As my Prince commands..." Her breath hitched as she slammed down on him.

Her free hand trailed back up and then down again, nails digging in. Soon his porcelain skin turned to an angry shade of red, blood prickling.

Aegon couldn't hold back anymore. His hips snapped up, meeting with hers. Her palm collided with his face. He bit down on the digit in his mouth again with another hard thrust.

Another slap. His cheek was staring to sting. Then he did it again.

"You're enjoying it, aren't you?" She hissed out as she bounced up and down.

Aegon hummed, tongue rubbing against the pad of her thumb.

She pulled her hand away from his face, his teeth dragging over.

"I want to hear you." She said as she dropped down to his chest, legs giving out. "Say it."

Aegon mumbled a few incoherent sentences before wrapping his arms around her waist tight. He set up a painfully fast speed, skin hitting skin as he chased his own high.

Her mind went blank at the first thrust, hands pushing up as she tried to pull away from his grasp. She almost slipped away, but Aegon was quick to follow her. His head dipped down, lips wrapping around one of her nipples. He bit down and then sucked in, just as she'd done to him the night before.

A hiss came from the woman. One of her hands sneaked over his shoulder, then pulled his head back by his hair.

A thin string of saliva trailed from his mouth and down to her bruised nipple. He offered a toothy, devilish grin before licking his lips clean.

"I'm close." She stuttered, eyes shutting tight.

Aegon laughed out as his bruised cheek came to rest on her chest, his eyes closing. He kept the same pace, the sweet aching in his hips coming once more.

"Princess, the feast..." The doors flew open, one of her maids barging in. "Oh, Gods!"

The girl left just as quickly, blush creeping up on her face.

"Don't stop!" She moaned out as Aegon's thrust stuttered. "Don't!"

He laughed again, hips snapping. Then he stopped completely.

"It would seem I still don't know my place, wife." He craned his neck up as his mouth left behind a hot, blazing trail from her collarbones to her jaw.

"You'll learn..." The woman looked down at him, hand going back to wrap around his throat. "...husband."

[sourszt]

hi ^_^ if you're not busy can you pls make a drabble abt niragi x reader x chishiya?? tyy ⁽⁽◝꒰ ˙ ꒳ ˙ ꒱◜⁾⁾

best of both worlds

✧ ft. niragi suguru x chishiya shuntaro x fem!reader

✧ cw. nsfw implied, light banter (between guess who lol), possessiveness, jealous boys (more on niragis end tho), they struggle lol, fluff, silly teasing, brainrot for these two

✧ notes. TY FOR THE REQUEST I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!! i hope you like it and i apologize for such a long wait <3 thank you so much for waiting!

never did you imagine yourself in a situation like this. as if being thrown into the vile depths of the borderlands wasn’t already enough, you were crowned with the rather taunting title of the “Beach’s Bitch.”

while it was only partially true, no one let you live it down. especially the two walking reasons as to why you were given the name in the first place. while it certainly pinched your nerves like guitar strings, it was nice to see them agree over something.

even if it was at your expense.

chishiya shuntaro, the beach’s number eleven, and niragi suguru, the beach’s number four, were rivals by nature. chishiya was a fox of a man; skinny, dyed blonde hair that was starting to grow out to his shoulders, and eyes that could see down to your very skeleton. niragi was the exact opposite. he was about a head taller than chishiya with long, slicked back black hair, and had a stare so venomous it could bring a grown man to tears. or maybe it was the automatic assault rifle he had.

they never got along and it was no secret. months ago, they could never even begin to stand in the same room as each other before one of chishiya’s sly remarks was thrown at the other’s back.

the last thing anybody would expect was for the two to share a similar interest in the beach’s newest addition; you. no one paid any particular attention to you when you snaked your way in and blended right in. you helped earn your fair share of cards, sure.

but that wasn’t what they paid attention to. chishiya admired your wit. you observed from the sidelines and made the right moves at the right times. niragi admired you. you always carried yourself like you knew what you were doing, any poor guy who treated you like you didn’t be damned. plus, you had nice legs.

it wasn’t long until the two had gained your full attention. at first, it was a mess. back and forth banter between them while you sat unimpressed in the middle of them. you didn’t remember when you started to find it quite endearing.

fast forward a few months and you’ve found a way to make the impossible possible. you sat at the beach’s bar with both men at either of your sides. niragi had his arm slung loosely around the back of your neck while chishiya’s shoulder was pressed securely against your own.

you sipped at your drink, silently enjoying the side glances the bartenders would give the three of you and the whispers that were too loud to even be considered whispers that would have niragi perking up like a guard dog. a sudden giggle made your shoulders jump, alerting the two.

“what’s so funny?” niragi grumbled after a nasty remark from one of the two girls passing by. chishiya hummed, curiously staring at your smiling face.

your fingers twirled the thin black straw inside the glass. “nothing,” you began, unable to hide the grin that kept growing. “i can just kind of imagine why people are reacting like this.”

the weight of niragi’s arm suddenly left and you turned to find his bewildered face inches away from yours. if you were absolutely anybody else, he would have punched the grin off of your face. “huh?”

“the two who can’t agree on the color of the sky dating the same woman. and she’s actually aware of it.” you spread your hands out like you were revealing a billboard. amused, you directed your eyes to chishiya, trying to get him to crack a smile. “i guess even i’m stunned that neither of you have tried to fight to the death over me. like edward and-”

“trust me, i would’ve killed him months ago if you didn’t make us play nice, doll.” niragi scoffed as he stole the glass from its place, bringing the straw to his lips and taking a lengthy sip.

“you were singing a different tune last night.” chishiya muttered as he shoved a cocky smirk into niragi’s face. the man nearly spat the drink out, slamming the cup onto the counter and choking into his free palm. you buried your flushed face into your hands, allowing the two room to glare at each other from behind your back.

nudging your elbow playfully into chishiya’s side, you shot him a flirtatious glare. he shrugged, a satisfied little smile creeping onto his lips. “he isn’t wrong, though. is he?” you fought a giggle when you faced niragi, remembering how intimate the two of them had been - with you in the middle, of course - last night.

the fire behind niragi’s scowl was fuel to your stifled giggle. yet he refused to admit it. so you gave up and pressed a kiss to his thinly pressed lips, leaning into him. he begrudgingly accepted it, instinctively reaching out to hold your waist.

“i’ll take that as a ‘no’ from you. shall we settle this in our room?” you quickly pecked chishiya on his pouting lips before hopping down from the bar stool and bounding happily out of the bar.

“what happened to her being our bitch?” niragi asked aloud, glancing at chishiya. the blonde laughed and shook his head.

“dunno. but in about an hour, neither of us will really care, will we?” it was enough to stir niragi from his seat, the two quickly following after you. it would be a good afternoon.

THIS WAS SO DOOTY BOOTY BUT I FIND IT SO SILLY FUNNY LMFAO -r

[gainingfiction]

Hot Weather

Summary: Joey is a young man with a big appetite. When he lands a job as a weather broadcaster for a local news station, he forms a powerful bond with cameraman Ian. As the seasons pass, it’s more than just the weather that changes: Joey is in for some serious growth.

This story is based on a suggestion from a friend. My inbox is always open—slide into my DMs with your ideas!

I: Summer

Ian gave the signal that they were off the air, and Joey exhaled. He stepped away from the greenscreen and towards the camera.

“How’d I do?” he asked. He was smiling, but his gentle eyes betrayed his nervousness. Ian was endeared to see that such an attractive, seemingly confident man still needed reassurance.

“Amazing,” Ian gushed. “You’re a natural, the camera loves you. Drizzle never looked so good.”

Joey’s cheeks reddened. Ian couldn’t help but smile back at him. As a cameraman, Ian didn’t get much attention. Most of the news team looked right past him, treating him as an extension of the camera itself. But the new weather presenter was different, always there with a kind word and some friendly banter. It certainly made the job more interesting.

And it didn’t hurt that he could fill out a suit like a movie star. Joey was gorgeous, with tidy brown hair, white teeth, and a broad, powerful, hard-won build. At about 6’3”, he was a head taller than Ian, who felt particularly dainty next to such a strapping young man. Joey was a couple of years out of his degree, a little younger than Ian’s 27 years, and his boyish good looks had already made him the subject of much ogling around the station.

“You did good, kid,” said the station manager, Carla, who approached with a clipboard in hand. She was a thin blonde woman with an apparently endless collection of pantsuits and a fondness for facelifts and unfiltered cigarettes. “The old folks loved Lester, but it feels good to have some fresh blood around here.”

“Thanks, Carla,” Joey said, still smiling. Lester was the local weatherman for 41 years. He was a local legend, presenting the weather since before Joey and Ian were born—his were big shoes to fill, but Ian was sure Joey would fill them.

Carla retreated back into the control room, leaving the two men alone.

“So, your first week is over, and Carla already likes you,” Ian said. “I think some congratulations are in order.”

“We should celebrate,” Joey said. “Did you maybe want to grab a drink?”

It was an offer Ian couldn’t resist.

II: Fall

“Did you get it?” Joey asked.

Ian nodded as he turned off the camera. “Sure did. Another job well done by our local weather god.”

Joey laughed, rolling his eyes. “You’re just trying to butter me up.”

Ian cracked a smile. Joey was easy to praise; Ian always enjoyed seeing if he could make the young man blush.

Since that first drink, the two had become close. Ian loved to cook, and Joey loved to eat, so they had shared more than a few home-cooked meals at Ian’s apartment.

And Joey’s healthy appetite was starting to show: his stomach, once perfectly flat, now rounded against the front of his button-down. His small belly pressed against the buttons, with small gaps appearing between them to reveal Joey’s white undershirt. And his thighs, which had always been thick, now looked even thicker, filling his slim-fitting dress pants without an inch to spare. They monopolized the fabric, making Joey’s bulge look particularly prominent. 

They were out in a local park, filming a stupid puff piece about fall colours, and Ian couldn’t help but admire the way Joey looked as he stood in front of the lake, smooth skin glowing in the light of the setting sun. His tight shirt hugged his broad shoulders and strong arms, and he looked like a (noticeably overfed) model as he gazed across the water, red and gold leaves falling around him. He turned, slightly, giving Ian a perfect view of his round, perky bubble butt, which bulged mercilessly against the seat of his pants, threatening the seam. Ian bit his lip to keep from lusting too transparently. It was one thing to have a crush on a coworker, but getting caught staring at their big ass was something entirely different.

Joey turned back, and the two headed towards the news van, chatting as they walked.

“We still on for dinner tonight?” Ian asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I’ve been fiddling with this carbonara recipe and I’d love your feedback.”

“Ooh, some pasta sounds great,” Joey said. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

After dropping the van and the camera back to the station, they each made their way to Ian’s apartment.

They chatted as Ian cooked, dicing bacon and cracking eggs. “So you played hockey in college?” he asked.

Joey nodded. “Yeah. I love being on the ice, but I don’t miss the early morning practices.”

“What about the locker room?” Ian asked, with a lopsided grin. He imagined sweaty guys horsing around, glorious hockey butts on full display when they hit the showers. “I think that’s what I’d miss.”

Joey laughed. “Yeah, I’ll miss that, too. Not that I’d ever tell the guys that.” He took a sip of wine as Ian added the pasta to a pot of boiling water.

As he cooked, he told Joey a bit about himself. Ian was the oldest of five brothers, with a lifelong love of photography that had blossomed into a passion for filmmaking. After a few years trying to break into the film industry on the West Coast, he moved back to his hometown, deciding that the city wasn’t for him. “I haven’t given up on making movies, though,” he said. “I just think I’d like to do it closer to home.”

Joey nodded along, and shared his own story: growing up in the country, landing a hockey scholarship from his time as a high school athlete, an interest in meteorology that he thought was extremely nerdy.

“I don’t think it makes you a nerd,” Ian said. Maybe it was the healthy amount of wine he’d consumed, but he felt very earnest. “And I’m sort of an expert in that department. You should have seen me in high school… braces, sweater vests, chess trophies… let’s just say I wasn’t getting invited to the jocks’ parties.” Given his straight teeth and evolved fashion sense, Ian didn’t mind opening up about his past, especially to someone as sweet as Joey.

Joey smiled at him. “Well, you didn’t miss out on much, in my experience.”

The conversation continued as Ian ladled out the pasta, a small portion for himself and a heaping bowlful for his guest. If Joey noticed the disparity, he didn’t care, eagerly devouring the entire serving and going in for seconds. Ian almost swooned as he watched Joey eat; there was nothing he found more attractive than a man who liked his food and knew how to put it away.

By the time he left to go home, Joey looked very well-fed indeed.

III: Winter

As the weather got colder, Joey’s weight gain seemed to accelerate. He was like a bear getting ready for hibernation, adding fat to his muscular body at a dizzying pace. More and more chub coated his athletic build each week, and Ian could guess why: when he wasn’t on camera, he was constantly snacking, inhaling donuts in the breakroom or loading up on chips and chocolate bars at the vending machine. It must have been a relic of his life as an athlete, but without sports to keep his weight down, all the extra food he was eating was sticking to his hips and belly, blowing him up bigger and bigger.

Ian tried to keep from drooling at the way Joey’s broadening stomach soon filled his newly-upsized dress shirts, the way his pecs got rounder and beefier, how his arms looked bigger but not more muscular. His handsome face looked softer, too, his jawline looking a little less sharp. And his lower half was getting deliciously chubby. His thighs had porked up nicely, packing his dress pants, while his butt, still perfectly round, now jutted out, lifting and parting the center back vent of his blazer. When his suit jacket was off, Ian could really appreciate that meaty bubble butt, admiring the round, sloping curve of each cheek.

By mid-January, his new clothes were looking particularly strained. Ian had to hide his boner when Joey leaned over one day and his pants finally gave up the ghost, seams ripping under the pressure of his bulging thighs and ass, revealing his stretchy print underwear. Ian pretended not to notice, and Joey retreated to his office to change. It was safe to say that the holidays had been very good to him.

But Ian couldn’t take much credit for Joey’s added heft. He’d only been over once since Christmas, loading up on lamb and creamy mashed potatoes as Ian stared on in delight. He was starting to miss their regular dinner dates, even if they weren’t really dates at all.

One day towards the end of the month, Ian decided to make another offer, this time with plenty of notice. He gazed out from behind the camera as Joey gestured to the greenscreen, pointing out a low-pressure system that would bring major snowfall to the area.

When the camera stopped rolling, Ian made his move. “How about dinner this weekend?” he asked. “I’m thinking lasagna, if you’re interested.”

“Huh, maybe another time,” Joey said. He rubbed the back of his neck, not meeting Ian’s gaze. “Tara’s got me on this stupid diet. She says I should eat at home more.”

Ian frowned. “Tara?”

“Uh, yeah,” Joey said, looking down at his feet. “My girlfriend.”

This was the first Ian had heard of any girlfriend. He was filled with an instant, irrational dislike of her, especially with this talk of dieting threatening to undo Joey’s beautiful expansion. “I don’t think you need to diet,” Ian said. He cringed at how defensive he sounded.

Joey shook his head, “I don’t know, I’m up, like, more than 50 pounds since I started working here. And Tara says the camera adds 10 pounds.”

Ian bit his tongue. The nerve of this woman! The camera could add 100 pounds and Joey would still look perfect, at least in Ian’s opinion.

“We’re going skiing this weekend, too,” Joey said. “But maybe another time. We could do a double date, or something.”

That stung; Joey knew that Ian was single. “Yeah, sure,” he said. He turned to the monitor. “Anyway, I think we need another take. Maybe try to stay in frame this time?”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Joey said, a frown crossing his handsome face. Ian regretted his bluntness immediately. He didn’t want to hurt Joey, but as he stepped back behind the camera, he couldn’t help but nurse some hurt feelings of his own.

IV: Spring

Either the diet Tara recommended wasn’t working, or Joey wasn’t following it. Whatever the explanation, the results were obvious: Joey wasn’t losing any weight, and he looked to be packing on even more, his burly frame swelling and expanding seemingly by the day.

He seemed oblivious to his added poundage, strolling into the station in suits that looked increasingly stressed and skin-tight. The buttons on his shirt were particularly overburdened, his softening torso gobbling up every available inch of fabric. His love handles hung over the waistband of pants that once fit him comfortably, pushing the seams to their absolute limit, while his round butt seemed to stick out farther and farther, increasing amounts of lard layering his powerful glutes and widening his thick thighs into a pair of juicy tree trunks.

His charming, pretty-boy face was getting softer, too, as his jawline rounded out and a second chin started to form. And his arms grew plumper, strong biceps losing all definition and straining the sleeves of his shirts just as his pants struggled with his lower half.

Ian had given up on a relationship with Joey, instead turning to casual hookups with guys he met on apps. They were nice enough, and some of them were even handsome, but none came close to Joey’s attractive smile, kind eyes and commanding presence.

There was one guy that Ian had some interest in. His name was Owen, and he’d been doing a dirty bulk over the winter, his small waist widening and swelling into a plump little gut, the beginnings of a dadbod. But he was clear that it was only temporary; he had every intention of shredding it now that the weather was warming up again. Ian’s eyes glazed over when he threw around words like “beach body” and “macros” and “complex carbs.”

Joey approached one day when the nightly news ended. The weather had been one of the big stories, with an unseasonable winter storm barreling through the area. The message had been to stock up on food and stay off the roads. Joey definitely seemed like he’d been stocking up on food for a while: his bulky, cornfed body was putting his suit to the test, forcing the wool taut around his broad shoulders and husky arms, while his hockey boy thighs looked to have swollen to the size of Ian’s waist, and maybe surpassed it.

“Tara dumped me,” he said, brows furrowed. “She said I wasn’t sticking to my diet, that I looked even fatter. Can you believe that?”

Ian believed every word: that Tara was shallow, that Joey was cheating on his diet, and that he’d never looked heftier than he did in that moment. “Wow, that’s awful,” Ian said, brows furrowing. He rested a hand on Joey’s arm, giving it a rub, feeling the way his chunky arms packed his sleeves like sausages. “Honestly, she doesn’t deserve you. You’re a local celebrity, dude!”

Joey smiled weakly. “Thanks, man,” he said. “Did you maybe want to grab a drink tonight?”

Ian frowned, looking around the studio to avoid Joey’s gaze. On the one hand, he wanted to be there for his friend, but on the other, he’d spent so long lusting after Joey. He couldn’t keep spending all his time crushing on a guy he had no chance with. It wouldn’t be long before he found another girlfriend, and Ian was back on the sidelines.

“Ah, maybe a raincheck? I have Owen coming over for dinner tonight.”

“Oh.” Joey raised his brows. “Is, uh, is Owen your boyfriend?” He asked. There was an edge to his voice, a forcefulness behind his casual tone.

Ian shrugged. “I don’t know, not really. We’re not exclusive or anything. But who knows, maybe someday.”

“Well, have fun,” Joey said. He gave a small smile, but his eyes didn’t twinkle the way they usually did when he was genuinely happy. “Oh, and remember, snow starts at 8. Roads might get messy after that.”

Ian smiled at Joey, before turning to leave the station.

Dinner was boring, and the sex afterwards was drab, almost perfunctory. Ian felt like Owen was just going through the motions, like he was already getting bored of their fling. They both came, but it was hardly the stuff of romance novels. Afterwards, they lay together in bed, scrolling through their phones, until Owen left. The first flakes of snow were just starting to fall.

Ian curled up on his couch as the storm gathered force outside his windows. As he sipped wine and tried to find something on Netflix worth watching, he heard a banging at his front door. He glanced at his clock: it was 11:15 PM in the middle of a blizzard.

Ian frowned as he got to his feet. He walked over to the front door and peered through the peephole, where he saw Joey, bundled up in a puffy winter jacket, snowflakes dappling his hair.

Ian opened the door quickly, surprised to see the distraught look on Joey’s face.

“Joey! What are you doing here? You said to stay off the roads!”

“I know,” he said. He was almost teary-eyed, hands stuffed in his coat pocket. “I—I miss you.”

Ian didn’t know what to say. He swallowed. “I miss you too, Joey.”

“I just… hope I didn’t blow it. I need you in my life, Ian. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. And I know you’re dating someone, and I’m probably not even your type—”

Ian silenced him with a kiss. He ran his hand through Joey’s soft hair as he pulled his beautiful face towards his own, Ian’s slender body pressed against Joey’s large one, the snow on his coat wetting Ian’s t-shirt. Snowflakes blew against their faces as Joey’s lips brushed against Ian’s, both men breaking into a smile.

“Well, you better come in,” Ian said. “It’s freezing out here.”

V: Summer 

Ian felt like he’d bagged the hottest guy in the world. He wished he could go back and tell his younger self that he was dating a gorgeous jock who made his living on the nightly news.

Of course, Joey’s jock days seemed to be getting farther and farther behind him. He still worked out semi-regularly, but it was mostly weights. It was safe to say that Joey epitomized the ex-jock: big gut, big butt, and a very big appetite.

Since moving in with Ian, Joey was eating himself out of his clothes on a semi-regular basis. He devoured whatever Ian put in front of him, washed down with copious quantities of beer, and he snacked constantly, often polishing off a family-size bag of chips or a whole package of cookies in a single evening. All of those extra calories were piling onto Joey’s belly, hips, thighs, and ass at breakneck speed, turning him from chubby to undeniably fat.

Other people had also noticed how much Joey was thickening up. One night, Ian was scrolling through social media when he saw a post from the TV station, featuring a picture of Joey standing in front of a weather map, taken side-on. The station had obviously chosen it because of the interesting weather pattern and the broad smile on Joey’s handsome face, but Ian—and several commenters—noticed something else.

His ass looked huge.

Joey’s chunky backside ballooned against the seat of a pair of beige dress pants that were obviously nearing the end of their life cycle, ballooning out behind him, almost spherical and still perfectly perky. If black was slimming, his light-coloured pants had the exact opposite effect, making his large buttocks look even more pronounced. Reading through the comments, Ian’s eyes boggled. They ranged from cute to flattering to downright obscene.

“Damn, that weatherman is a stone cold hunk…”

“Dat ass! Dude is THICCC”

“Brb deleting my weather apps so I can get all my news from this guy”

“Does he vlog? Would honestly watch this guy all day”

“Sit on my fucckkking face”

Ian didn’t know who would post some of those comments on the page of a local news station. The picture had clearly gotten a lot more attention than the station’s social media intern could handle, since the comments weren’t being moderated. Ian decided not to show the post to Joey, hoping to spare him the embarrassment.

But he discovered it on his own, and came to Ian with a surprising reaction: Joey liked the vlog idea from that one commenter, and he wanted to start a YouTube channel. “I could talk about things I find interesting, review food, riff about movies and TV shows, post workout videos… And I want you to film it,” Joey said, chubby cheeks dimpling as his face broke into a broad smile.

It wasn’t the sort of stuff Ian imagined himself shooting, but it was a lot of fun. Joey’s charisma made him a natural, and the views started to climb with each video he posted. His workouts were particularly popular, attracting the attention of a certain key demographic—guys who like big butts. Whether he was doing squats or lunges, the comments quickly filled with men thirsting after his round booty, which consumed more and more of his stretchy basketball shorts as time went on.

And it wasn’t just the internet who noticed Joey’s gains. The station was full of gossip about how much the hunky weatherman was letting himself go, and how much he had changed from the fit jock he’d been last summer.

Even Carla jumped in with some snark. Joey had just finished for the evening when she approached, clipboard in hand. “I see Ian’s been feeding you well,” she said. “You’re supposed to be filling Lester’s shoes, not his pants.” Carla laughed at her own joke, a throaty chuckle, and ran her hand along Joey’s large arm.

He looked sheepish. His broadening belly was already pushing the limits of a shirt Ian had bought him only a month before, the buttons just starting to spread. He definitely wouldn’t be able to wear it on air again.

“I’m just messing with you, kid,” Carla said. “You look cute as a button, very macho. Keep up the good work.”

And with that she disappeared, yelling that one of the news anchors needed more makeup.

They finished up for the day not long after that. “Ready for some fun in the sun?” Joey asked, rubbing Ian’s shoulders as they walked out of the station and into the brilliant sunshine. 

They had booked Labour Day weekend off work, and Ian could hardly contain his excitement as they hit the road. They stopped into a small restaurant along the way, and Ian ordered for Joey: a massive burger, extra fries, onion rings, and a milkshake, with two pieces of pie for dessert. Joey was groaning by the time they left; it was a good thing he’d abandoned his dress shirt, since it might not have survived such a king-sized feast.

After a very steamy night at a beachside vacation rental, they woke up feeling refreshed. Joey wanted to try bodysurfing, and Ian happily tagged along, bringing a waterproof camera with him.

Pretty soon they were standing in the sand, the camera rolling.

“Hey everyone, I’m here at the beach with my beautiful boyfriend,” Joey said, grinning. “Say hi, Ian.”

“Hi, Ian,” Ian joked, keeping the camera trained on Joey, whose dazzling smile didn’t falter as he rolled his eyes.

“Today I’m gonna do something I always wanted to try: bodysurfing,” he said. Ian almost swooned as he stripped off his shirt, revealing his massive torso. His pecs—they were more like moobs, these days—were round and beefy, with prominent nipples, and his gut looked enormous, curving into a plump muffin top that jutted out over the waistband of his board shorts on all sides. They’d bought those only a few weeks earlier, but Joey’s wide, baby-making hips and voluptuous thighs were already filling them out without much room to spare.

He turned around and headed to the water, and Ian had to stop himself from panning to Joey’s monumental rump. That explained why his shorts were so tight: that big ass needed every spare stitch of fabric, and his cheeks were lifted and separated by the seam at the seat, making his backside look particularly round and ripe.

The attempt at bodysurfing was a bit of a mess, but Joey clearly had fun with it, and Ian got plenty of great shots of him enjoying the surf. After a little while, Ian put his camera away and joined Joey in the water. If they had the beach to themselves, Ian wouldn’t have been able to keep his hands off of Joey’s big, round belly or hefty titties, not to say his eminently grabbable behind.

When they returned to shore to get some sun, Ian offered to get some ice cream, an offer that Joey eagerly accepted. He got himself a single scoop, and a towering cone for his towering wall of man.

Ian admired Joey as he approached, looking at the way his gut rounded out above him as he lay on his back, looking cool in a pair of shades. There was no denying it: Joey was a fat guy now. His arms, legs, and chest were clearly still strong and muscular, but there was nothing muscular about the massive mound of belly fat that had made its home on Joey’s once-flat torso. No more rippling abs; just a big, fat ball of blubber.

“Thanks, cutie,” Joey said, as he accepted his enormous cone. He set to work on it immediately, trying to keep it from melting in the summer heat. Watching the way Joey greedily licked his ice cream, Ian thought of all the other things he’d like to film his boyfriend doing—and none of them were appropriate for the evening news.

Now, a home movie… that was a different story.

[baby-beelzeburger]

❆Talk❆

❅➺Summary:  Izuku drags you along for a month long trip to Otheon for Christmas to see Izuku’s friend Rody, but you both realize along the way that maybe you weren’t content just being friends with him, or with each other.

❅➺ Pairing: Rodeku x Reader

❅➺Content Warnings:  Light spoilers for World Heroes Mission, love confessions, bittersweet ending, but mostly fluff

❅➺ Word count: 8,291

Winter in Otheon is… cold. A lot colder than in Musutafu, where it was expected to get no more then a few inches of snow in the year. Being in Otheon in winter was a lot more like being in Hokkaido, or other northern regions of the country that you don’t visit very often. Maybe for this very reason.

You didn't care much for this kind of weather.  You'd much prefer to lay out on the beach, with the crystal waters and cool breeze. But you were in Otheon instead, for Izuku.

When Izuku approached you with his big pleading eyes and asked if you wanted to come with him to visit an old friend with him for Christmas, you couldn't help but say yes. Not only because those eyes could sway you to do anything, but a trip to Europe with Izuku sounded like bliss. And he'd only talked your ear off about this mysterious boy from Otheon, the one who helped save the world. Obviously, you had to meet him.

But its cold. As soon as you stepped off the plane, you were shivering. But Izuku just smiled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"You made sure to pack warmer clothes then that, right?" He asked, eying your thin pajama pants and loose shirt.

"Yes! But I wasn't thinking about dressing warmly for the plane, I was thinking about dressing comfortably."

He chuckled again, pulling you closer against him. The sweetness of the gesture at least brought a bit of warmth to you, both in the form of his body heat, and from the way your cheeks flared up.

"Let's hurry up and find Rody and our luggage then, so you can get warm."

After your luggage had been retrieved the two of you ventured off to find Izuku's friend. Though you didn't really know what you were looking for, Izuku's eyes scanned the crowd like a hawk. When they found what they were looking for, they brightened, and Izuku let out a gasp. You barely had time to look up before he was dragging you along.

"Rody!" He called, and a man your age with eyes like thick fog and wild brown hair looked up from his phone. He stood up from his slouched position against the wall, and although he looked rather collected, the small bird on his shoulder hopped atop its small feet, flapping its wings wildly.

Izuku nearly pounced on the poor guy. You're sure that he, as rock solid as he was, knocked some wind from Rody's lungs. Izuku didn't consider that, clearly, bringing him in for probably the biggest bear hug of Rody’s life. Izuku squeezed him so hard his feet lifted from the ground. The bird tweeted and flew up from Rody's shoulder to land in Izuku's mop of curly hair, begging for some of the excited hero’s attention.

"Hi to you too, Pino," Izuku chuckled, taking the tiny bird from his head to hold in his palm.

Rody pulled away, an effortless grin placed across his lips. But you noticed the grin falter as he got a look, really got a look, at Izuku.

"Um, have you grown a whole foot since I last saw you?"

Izuku smiled, his hand rubbing the nape of his neck in embarrassment.

"Just about."

Rody whistled, a sound that displayed his awe. He wasn't much shorter then Izuku, maybe by a few inches, but it still must've been a sight to see if the last time Rody saw the sight at all, he was the taller one.

"Damn… last time I saw you, you were just a little pipsqueak," He said, using his hand to demonstrate about how tall Izuku was before. You snorted at that, recalling how small Izuku had been when you were in high school. Although, he made up for what he lacked plenty in the built muscle that’d only continued to grow since then, along with the rest of him.

Izuku laughed, the sound boisterous and echoing through the expansive airport.

"Me? A pipsqueak? I don’t remember you saying anything like then when I was saving your ass from villains."

Rody glanced away, huffing a breath from his nose. The bird, Pino, covered her face with her wings.

"Whatever. Anyway," Rody moved on, trying to ignore Izuku's smug grin. He cleared his throat and let his gaze meet yours, "You must be Y/n?"

"And you're Rody." He stretched his hand out to you, grinning.

"In the flesh."

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of it despite how cold the rest of the air around you was. Part of you hesitated to pull away. You wondered if he felt the same when he felt your freezing fingers, because his eyebrow raised and he squeezed your hand just a bit before pulling away. 

"C'mon, let's get you guys home." Rody said, stepping between you both to pry your luggage from your fingers. When he started walking off, Izuku scoffed. 

"No need to help me, Rody. I got it," He joked, voice dripping with sarcasm. But clearly there was no malice behind it when he chuckled under his breath. Rody smiled over his shoulder. 

"'Course you do. You're a big strong hero, aren't ya?"

He winked, making your heart skip despite the fact that the gesture wasn't directed at you. 

Pino hopped from Izuku’s hair to grab her wings around the handle of his luggage. 

"That's alright, Pino. I was just joking."

The bird watched him for a moment, head tilted before she took sat down, making herself home on the top of his suitcase. 

You and Izuku exchanged a look, yours a little unsure while his was amused. You weren’t exactly sure what you were in for here in Otheon. Didn’t even think to question it when Izuku invited you, trusting he’d take you somewhere good for the holidays. 

Now? Well, you still trusted him, but you had a feeling  deep in your gut that you were in for an interesting vacation.

The weeks that passed after that were quite enjoyable, once you got past the jet lag. Rody was lovely company. And his little siblings, Roro and Lala, were absolute darlings. They were very curious kids, asking you question after question about you and your life in Japan. Rody always tried reigning them in, but you'd brush him off, telling him you didn't mind. As always seemed to be the case, the kids loved Izuku too. It was great  being able to watch him and his natural gift of being good with kids. You couldn't help but think he'd be an excellent father someday. 

Rody himself was a great host. Although he was occupied quite a bit of the time with work or school, he tried his best to make sure you and Izuku were entertained. When he wasn’t around you and Izuku used the time to babysit Rody's siblings or go see the sights. When he was, he was very easy to talk to. Conversation between the three of you went on for hours with no breaks or hesitations. He told you all about his life there in Otheon, about his dreams of being a pilot. He joked with you no problem, and he was rather smooth when it came to flirting, which he did a lot. With both you and Izuku. You were rather flustered, but since Izuku never seemed to take it seriously you just assumed it was part of his personality. 

You even learned what that little bird, Pino, was. It was Rody’s quirk, apparently, although everyone was rather secretive about it whenever you asked details. You thought it especially strange when Izuku of all people spared the details of his a quirk.

You brushed it off eventually, and got used to your temporary life in Otheon.

The kids got used to you being around quickly too.

"Can we go play in the snow now, Mr. Deku?" Rody's youngest sibling, Lala, asked one afternoon, tugging on his hand. She had asked Rody the same thing a few hours prior, but he was adamant about waiting for the breakfast you'd just eaten to settle in your stomachs first.

The kids were both restless the whole time. Apparently snowfall was meant to occur all day, the perfect time to go out in the yard and play in the snow. 

"Well, you'd have to ask your brother about that."

"No, Rody is mean!" Lala pouted, "He'll just say no 'cause he hates fun."

Clearly she was still bitter about being told no earlier. Izuku tried to hold back his laughter. 

"Rody doesn't hate fun, Lala. He's just trying to be a responsible guardian for you and your brother. How about you go ask him again and see what he says?"

Lala hummed, deliberating the suggestion for what seemed like too long. Then she huffed, said "Fine!" then scurried off into the kitchen, where her brother Roro was helping Rody do the dishes. 

No sooner did she leave you that she was coming back, jumping up and down as she passed you. 

"He said yes!"

"I said after we're done with the dishes!"

Lala disregarded her brother, continuing on her trek to her room to get ready. 

Ten minutes later, you were all ushered out by two excitable kids. You stood out in the cold, layers of shirts and sweaters and coats pulled on you, watching the flurry of snow sprinkle down over their small yard. You, Izuku, and Rody stayed up on the porch, just chatting, but that didn’t last long before the kids were urging you to come join. Izuku was the first to comply, easily pliable to the whims of a kid with puppy dog eyes. Not far behind him was Rody, but he didn’t part from you before looking at you with that expectant look on his face. 

"You're not coming?"

"No, I'm alright. My body is freezing, I don't need my fingers to freeze off too."

"Aw, c'mon. I'll get you an extra pair of mittens."

"No, that's fine. Thank you though."

He pouted, very reminiscent of how his sister looked earlier. Then he stepped closer as he slid his hands out of his pockets. 

"Come on. You can always warm up inside when you need to." 

You took a step back as he advanced closer, and your back met the wall. Your eyes jerked from Rody to Izuku, Roro, and Lala. It was just in time to watch Izuku heft up a giant snowball, presumably the base of a big snowman, as the other two cheered.

So, maybe it did look fun to help them build that snowman, and maybe the pros of it slightly outweighed the cons. But you really didn’t like getting cold.

"Do it for the kids," Rody said, reeling your attention back towards him as he stood fully in front of you. His hand rested against your head on the wall, bracing himself against the wall and he leaned in,  "Or you could do it for me?"

His face was so close to yours. You suddenly didn't feel so cold anymore, your face turning into a red hot oven of embarrassment.

"Okay, okay, I'll go!" You squeaked out.

Rody smirked, triumphant, and stepped back again, moving on like nothing just happened. You legs were a little wobbly as they carried you to join the others. And though you couldn’t find it in you to even look at Izuku, Rody had no problems catching his curious gaze. The kids were completely oblivious to anything going on. 

"You came! We're making a snowman of Mr. Deku."

Despite Rody's insistence to join them, neither of you really did anything to help out in the beginning stages. In fact, neither did his siblings. Izuku was the only one strong enough to carry the huge snowballs they were persuading him to make, insisting that it had to be life-sized. And once the three snowballs were layered on top of each other, neither of them were tall enough to reach the top in order to place in the details. That left you and Rody to join in, sticking in rocks and sticks to make up the face and limbs. 

"What's that supposed to be?" Izuku laughed, watching Rody stick leaves he pulled from an evergreen bush nearby into the top of the snowman's head.

"Your hair, obviously."

"And those?" He asked you, watching while you poked spots into its face with the end of a twig.

"Your freckles, duh."

Izuku stepped back to observe the two of you, your eyebrows furrowed and tongues poked out in immense concentration.

"You guys are getting pretty serious about this…"

"Well obviously as proper artists, we want to make sure we really capture your natural beauty."

"Natural beauty, huh?"

Izuku scrutinized the snowman as you both stepped away, pleased with your work. His nose scrunched up.

"Don't quit your day jobs, guys."

For all it was worth, the kids thought you did a good job.

Afterwards they hopped up from their seats in the snow, and Roro suggested a snowball fight. They decided they wanted to be on teams, so Izuku decided it would be you and him against the Soul family.

Once the two teams were situated on the opposite sides of the yard, hidden behind cover, you and Izuku started discussing your plans, which didn’t consist of much. You both decided that you wanted to go easy on the kids, so that they could win.

"Ready?" Rody called from across the way.

"My hands are gonna get so cold…" You complained, mostly to yourself. Izuku smiled sympathetically, patting your shoulder before poking his head out from our cover.

"We're ready! You?"

"Us too. No quirk usage, got it Deku?"

"Yeah, yeah."

The two of them counted down from three, and when they got to zero it was a war zone.

Snowballs went flying in an instant. Most of the danger was in the adults hands, since the kids’ arms weren’t exactly strong enough to toss the snowballs all the way across the yard. You and Deku, trying to make it easier for them, dipped behind cover a little closer to their position to make it more effortless for them to reach. But even then, while trying to go easy on them, Izuku's throwing arm was scary good. Exceptionally so when aimed at Rody.

Eventually the battle ended up you against the kids, and Izuku against Rody. Izuku ended up chasing Rody to the front of the house, and despite Rody's "no quirks" rule, you could've sworn you saw green sparks around Izuku's feet as he chased Rody down.

That was a while ago, though, and you hadn't seen them since. Now it was just you and Lala, since Roro had sacrificed his spot in the game to save Lala from a hurling snowball. But after so long of silence from the other two, you called a momentary truce so that you could check on them.

Just as you rounded the corner you caught sight of Izuku tackling down Rody, the two of them toppling to the ground behind Rody's car. You ran over, worried for them, but you came to a halt when you saw how they had landed. 

Izuku propped his body up on all fours. And even though his hair fell over his face to cover his expression, you saw the way his arms shook with what you could only assume was anxiety. Rody, on the other hand, stared up wide-eyed at Izuku, completely caged to the ground. They were totally still as they stared at each other, like the snow around them had frozen them solid.

You rested your hip against the hood of the car, your eyebrow arched in amusement.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Izuku screamed, jumping away from Rody and landing back on his ass. You burst into laughter, holding your stomach.

"Geez, sorry Izu. I didn't mean to scare you so bad."

Rody huffed, sitting up and dusting the snow out of his  hair.

"Are either of you hurt?" You asked, trying to make eye contact, despite how desperately they were trying to avoid it. 

"Nope, we're great! Is- is the game over?"

A ball of snow smacked Izuku dead in the center of the face.

"It is now," Rody grumbled, "That's what you get for tackling me."

"Um, actually, I'm still in-"

Another ball of snow hit you on the shoulder.

"Not anymore."

"Cheater! I called the game off when I came to check on you. "

"Well its back on," He said before tossing another snowball at you, this one hitting your chest.

"Why, you little- Izuku, hold him!"

Without question, likely also wanting revenge, Izuku looped his arms around Rody's and pulled his back against his chest. Rody's legs flailed helplessly, but there was no way he could ever break free from Izuku's iron grip.

You tackled him down again, straddling his legs to keep him from kicking them. Rody cursed the both of you, but neither of you were paying any attention. Especially not when you dug your fingers into his waist.

The laughter that erupted from him sounded like the wail of a dying animal.

"Sto-stop it! You monsters, stop!"

You could hardly hear his pleas over you and Izuku's delighted giggles.

"Say sorry, cheater!"

"Fuck you!"

You dug in twice as viciously, turning his wails into squeals.

"Okay, okay! S-sorry! I'm sorry, alright!?"

You sat back, allowing him to catch his breath.

"Damn right. Bastard."

"You're-" Rody started, then heaved in a heavy breath through his lungs, "You're gonna pay for that."

"Oh, am I? I'm pretty sure you're not going to be doing anything when you're like this."

The reality of his situation suddenly to kicked in to him then, feeling Izuku's grip still wrapped tight around him, the man's muscled chest pressed against his back. And you, the flesh of your thighs pressed against his, the weight of you placed in his lap. Your arms rested on Izuku's own thighs, caging Rody in yet again. And your face was so close to his. 

His heart was beating so fast he felt like he might have a heart attack.

"Alright-" He started, and when his voice stuttered and cracked, he cleared his throat and tried again, "Alright, guys, games over. Let me go."

You glanced up at Izuku, who shrugged and let him go. You crawled off of Rody, and he immediately scrambled onto his knees, back facing you and Izuku and he hugged his coat around his body, hiding his face in his scarf.

Before you could ask him if everything was alright, make sure you didn't hurt him or anything, Roro and Lala came running around the corner.

"What's taking you guys so long?" Lala whined.

"Sorry guys! We got a bit distracted but, um, Rody got us out. Looks like your team won."

"We won!?" Roro echoed, not even questioning how as he gave a high five to his little sister.

"Alright, you two," Rody said, stumbling up to his feet, "It's starting to get late. How about you both take turns taking a hot shower and get changed."

"Aw, okay…"

"Can we play outside again tomorrow?"

"We'll see. Come on, now."

Rody led the kids back inside, you and Izuku lagging behind. You kept giving each other guilty looks, unable to help the thought that you upset him somehow. Even as Roro went off to the shower, and Lala got distracted in her room, leaving you three alone, Rody was silent. 

"Hey, Rody? Uh... sorry if we hurt you or something."

"You didn't, no worries, " Was all he said, going off to his room to change. 

You didn't see him for another hour after that, but when he emerged to start dinner, he seemed a lot more clear headed. Like nothing even happened.

That night, as Izuku settled in to his side of the air mattress you were sharing, his mind got to thinking. He stared up at you from his spot on his pillow, watching you fold up yours and his freshly cleaned clothes and packing them away in their rightful suitcases.

You looked so cute in his eyes. You always did, even while doing something as simple as folding clothes. He got a lot of opportunities to watch you do simple things in the apartment you shared with him. It all took his breath away.

It was the domesticity, he thought. The intimacy of sharing a home with you. It made him dizzy to think he was the one who got to.

"Hey, Y/n? Did you have fun here?"

Tomorrow morning was Christmas. Only a few days after that, you’d be stuffed in yet another ten hour flight back home, just a few days early for new years. You both dreaded the moment to come quite a bit. In part, both of your hearts wanted to stay here forever. The Soul family did a lovely job at making you two feel at home.

"I am, a lot actually. Otheon is beautiful, I'd love to come back some time." Izuku smiled.

"What do you think of Rody?"

"O-of Rody?"

That question surprised you at first, though it did make sense. Rody was a dear friend of Izuku’s. You were sure, after a second of thinking, that he only asked because he wanted to make sure his best friend approved. Still, you weren’t exactly sure what to tell him. 

Slowly, you sat on your side of the bed, considering the question. 

You liked Rody. A lot. Maybe more than you should, since you'd only known him for month. But maybe it was just Izuku's excitement about the boy that rubbed off on you. Maybe all that time you spent listening to Izuku ramble about him on the ten hour plane ride here made you fonder for him then you thought it would.

He was handsome too, incredibly so, so that certainly didn’t hurt.

"I knew it! You do like him," Izuku said, before you could even speak a word. Like it was all there, written across your face. Every single thing you thought, etched in permanent marker across your skin.

"What!?" 

"Shh!"

Izuku sat up, pressing a finger to his lips. Reigning yourself in, remembering that everyone else was asleep, you apologized.

Izuku was giving you the biggest grin. Like the idea of you, his best friend, harboring some sort of crush for his other good friend, made him utterly giddy. Completely overjoyed. 

"Yeah, okay. So what if I do like him a little?"

"Well," He started, turning bashful, "’Cause I like him too."

Oh…

Oh.

That's… a predicament. Of course, you only knew him for a little while, so obviously, if anyone deserves to be with him it'd be Izuku. That is, of course, under the assumption that Rody liked him back, which is almost impossible to tell considering how flippant he could be, and how nonchalant he always was. 

But then, why would Izuku be so thrilled by the fact that you both have feelings for Rody? Should that not bum him out as much as it did you?

"He likes you, but I think he likes me too," Izuku clarified, once again seeing your thoughts broadcasted like a movie on a silver screen. You shouldn't be surprised by now, he's always been so observant. Especially for you. 

"But how- how can you tell?"

Izuku glanced around, as if making sure no one but you would hear him in his dark, quiet room. Like he was about to tell you the grandest secret of all, one that would be dangerous to fall into the wrong hands.

In reality, though, he was just a dork, who wouldn't be heard no matter what. No one else was even there.

"It's Pino," He told you, with a glance to the bird laying fast asleep between you. 

"Pino?" You questioned, not really understanding his point. 

"He told you Pino is his quirk, right? But nobody told you what she does, did they?"

You shook your head as you remembered all the evasion, even from Izuku himself. 

"That's because it really embarrasses Rody. And, well, because it gives him away completely."

You blinked. He saw the confusion written on your face, glanced around one last time, then said, "Rody seems all calm and carefree on the surface, but he's not if you know where to look. His quirk is called Soul, which manifests Pino. But she's not just a bird that follows him around, Pino's actions directly reflect how Rody is feeling."

You blinked again, then once again, staring dumbfounded at Izuku. 

Suddenly, your mind was recalling all of the moments Pino was so… affectionate. Like how she'd wag her tail feathers when she saw you, hopping on her tiny feet before flying over to you. Or when she perched on your arm or shoulder without prompting, nuzzling her soft pink feathers against you. The way she leaned forward when you talked, and seemed so happy to hear your voice, listening to you with rapt attention. All things you noticed she did with Izuku as well. And so much more, too.

Even tonight, when she snuck away from Rody before he could close his door for the night. She came straight to you two, plopping herself on the center between your pillow and Izuku's. She'd been fast asleep ever since, rolling around every now and then when she couldn't decide if she wanted to be enveloped in your scent or his. 

You didn't think you could ever see a bird look so happy. 

"See, you get it now," Izuku said, at the look of realization in your eyes, "Rody acts cool, but it's all written right here."

His palm cupped the tiny bird, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. She cooed in her sleep, her head nuzzling the pad of his thumb.

"Just like how all of your emotions are all written right here," He said while his hand changed targets, instead cupping your face. Your eyes widened involuntarily at his warm touch on your even warmer cheek. The way he looked at you like that, all softness, simmered your insides.

"You can really read me that well?"

"There's no way I couldn't. I know you too well for you to hide anything from me."

You supposed knowing someone for so long just had that effect. Almost ten years of friendship, and it was no wonder someone as observant as him could learn your every mannerism.

"I really like you too, you know. You've always been there for me, no exceptions, ever since we were kids, when no one else has. It’s so... you’re so incredible."

A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, fluttering and dancing inside your body. Your body was stunned, not sure what to do. Not sure what to say. But Izuku was sure his face leaning in close. Quietly, as to not shake the delicacy of his words, he said, "I hope I'm not reading this wrong. I hope you like me too."

"I do," You gasped, his lips so close that you could feel his puffs of breath against yours. 

With your confirmation, he closed the gap between you. It was just a quick peck of his lips against yours, but it felt like a lifetime. Like you sat there and watched ten years of friendship unfold, all leading up to this one moment. 

When he pulled away from you, his eyes glimmered. It reminded you of the giant Christmas tree set up downtown, with all the beautiful glimmering lights. They shined magnificently in the night, just like Izuku’s viridescent eyes in the dim lighting of the living room.

Your brain wanted to start racing, wanted to worry about what this meant. About what would happen to your friendship if a relationship with Izuku failed. But you were just too happy, by the returning of your feelings to let it bother you. The pure elation in the fluttering of your heart overshadowed anything else.

You could only think to say one thing.

"Does this mean we're together?" 

"If you want it to."

You nodded, breathing out another "I do," like you'd just pledged to live out the rest of your days with him. You might as well have. You already had been. 

"S- so… now what?"

"I want to tell Rody about how we feel before we have to leave. If- If you're okay with that, of course. I know you don't know him as well as I do, but I thought, maybe we could all be together? It would be.. nice."

You considered it. In some ways, it was a weird request. When Izuku invited you on this trip, you hadn't expected any of this. Didn't expect to fall for the mysterious man of Otheon that Izuku had been so excited for you to meet. Didn't expect Izuku to confess that he also had feelings for said mysterious boy, and for you. But despite that, you weren't all that opposed to the idea. You'd never been anything but monogamous relationships, but you were willing to try for him. For them.

You nodded, and Izuku released a huge, pent up breath from his lungs.

"Thank goodness. You don't think I'm… weird or anything."

He plopped his body back against the sheets, like the tension in him had been the thing keeping him up, and now that all he felt was relif, there was nothing keeping him up anymore. Y settled in too, laying on your side so you could see him. You never wanted to take your eyes off of him. Not in this moment. Not ever.

"Hopefully I'm right about this and… maybe he'll want to be with us too."

"Yeah. Hopefully."

You two snuggled a lot closer than usual that night, with Pino settled right in between. 

The next morning started with a rude awakening, Roro and Lala running into the room with laughter and squeals of glee at the sight of the piles of presents around the tree.

“Guys, shhh!” Rody hushed in a whispered voice, coming down the hallway. When he saw that you’d already been stirred awake, he sighed, apologizing in a low voice.

“It’s no problem. Kids will be kids, especially on Christmas morning.”

At least Izuku still slept, somehow.

You picked yourself up off the mattress and your eyes landed on Pino, struggling to wake up from her comfy spot in Izuku’s mess of hair. You laughed, cupping her limp body in your palms and scooping her up to hold her near your chest. She let out a delighted tweet, something like a good morning.

“Pesky little bird,” Rody scoffed, “I wondered where she went off to last night.” 

“Nothing to worry about, she slept with Izuku and I all night. She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

Pino tweeted again. Rody skillfully avoided your gaze.

“Yeah, adorable.”

Meanwhile, the kids had already made a beeline to the tree. It was a small little thing, about a third of your average Christmas pine, and plastic. But it was still decorated with love. You could tell by all the handmade ornaments that hung from the branches. Some of them were messily put together and painted wildly, obviously done by the kids with creative minds but not yet enough time to develop that skill. Some of them, on the other hand, were very neatly done, most likely by Rody himself. You'd have to ask him about it later.

Even then, while you were fascinated by what hung off the tree’s little branches, the tree itself was not what the kids were worried about this morning.

"Santa came!" Lala squealed, jumping up and down beside your bed, "Y/n! Deku! Santa came last night!!"

Izuku groaned, prying one of his eyes open to look up at the girl jumping above him, casting a shadow over his face.

“That’s great, Lala. Why don’t you go look at your presents?”

“Okay!”

She scampered off to be with her brother, also near the tree, shaking a present beside his ear in an attempt to find out what it was.

“What’s up with you? I thought you were the morning person out of the three of us?” Rody asked.

“Five more minutes,” Was Izuku’s only groggy response, his hands grabbing for his pillow to hide his face in it.

You thought back on how you and Izuku stayed up a little later than you should’ve last night, talking about whatever, including the details of what could be a new relationship with Rody come morning, and decided to let him rest.

Lala returned to you again shortly after, and an armful of presents labeled with her name.

“Look, Y/n! Santa brought you something too!” She said, dropping something in your lap.

“Wha- you didn’t need- I mean, Santa didn’t need to do that…” 

You snuck a glance towards Rody, arms crossed and leaning back on the couch. He seemed smug about it, it made you flush.

“Maybe Santa thought it was pretty cool of you to fly up here with Deku and meet us, and maybe he thinks you’re pretty cool too, so he didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary.”

Rody shrugged- as if to say “deal with it”- then jerked his chin towards the tree and said “Deku got one too.”

Roro searched through the pile before eventually finding the one with Izuku’s name on it.

“How did you know?” He asked Rody, who shrugged again.

“Looked through them before I woke you kids up.”

Roro handed Izuku's gift to Rody, then brought all of his own away from the tree, separating them in his own little corner. Then he looked up at you, the shaken present from earlier back in his hands. 

"Hey, Y/n, did you see Santa last night?” He asked you.

You laughed at the blurry memory you had from the night before, with Izuku fast asleep behind you, face buried in the nape of your neck. You heard one of the doors in the hallway creek open, and for a moment you’d thought it might be one of the kids, trying to sneak a peak at Santa themselves despite Rody's warning that only bad kids do that. But instead, it was Rody that came shuffling out of the hallway, clad in a plain white shirt and his boxer shorts. He had a pile of gifts in his arms, dumping them all by the tree. He snagged a cookie from the plate the kids laid out for Santa while he was at it, chomping down on the treat. 

That's when you’d sat yourself up on your elbow, prying yourself a little from Izuku. He gave a sleepy protest, but otherwise didn't do anything. You had only really seen Rody for that second, grumbling his name in your groggy state. He knelt beside you, apologizing for waking you and urging you in his smooth voice to fall back asleep. You didn't hesitate to follow his order, mind too numb to wake up just yet. 

Your eyes flickered over to Rody, who's eyebrow arched upwards in amusement, smirk prominent on his lips.

“Well? Did you?”

"I think I did, actually," You said, looking back at his siblings with an air of amazement, "But it was just a moment before I fell back asleep. I could've sworn I was dreaming, but he was definitely carrying all of those presents that are there under the tree. And he took a cookie too."

That seemed to excite them as they talked amongst themselves about how they knew Santa was real, and that the mean kid at their school didn't know what he was talking about.

"Alright, you two. How about you go ahead and open up your presents so that we can eat. I'm starving." 

Rody stretched out his body, extending his long arms and legs with a yawn. In the process, he kicked his heel into Izuku's ass, startling him awake.

"Up and at 'em, Hero. Present time," He called over the rips and tears of flimsy wrapping paper. Izuku sat himself upright, but not without grumbles of complaints about getting kicked. Rody tossed him his gift and Izuku caught it with ease, cat-like reflexes letting him capture the hurtling box despite his half-sleeping state.

Izuku glanced at the kids, making sure they weren't listening. The two of them were much too occupied with opening their own gifts and showing them off to each other, to care about any of you at the moment.

"You didn't have to get me anything, Rody," He said quietly, leaning towards him. He got pretty much the same response to did, a snarky shrug.

"Just open it."

Izuku did as asked, carefully peeling the tape from the paper. Rody groaned.

“Dude, seriously? You unwrap gifts like a wuss. Just rip the crap open.”

“I don’t want to make a mess,” He said, eyes flickering back to the kids. More specifically, at the scraps of paper all over the place thanks to said kids.

Rody tried to urge Izuku that he didn’t care, but Izuku still refused. He unwrapped his gift like a one hundred year old tortoise, but at least there was no mess. 

What he revealed, once the paper was crumpled up and set aside, was a brand new All Might figurine- go figure. Except this particular figurine you’d never seen before, even though half of your home was covered in his precious collection.

“Is this- what is this?” Izuku questioned. His eyes looked like they were practically glowing, excitement for this new member for his collection, but equally as puzzled that he didn’t recognize it.

“Dunno, some rare All Might toy they only sell here in Europe. I guess he’s even a big deal here.”

Izuku seemed positively fired up at the idea of getting an exclusive All Might merch. Because if there was one thing he loved more than All Might merch, it was the rare stuff that not everybody else could get.

He threw himself at Rody, wrapping his arms around his neck, muttering ‘thank you’ into his shirt over and over and over. Rody’s siblings only spared a glance at them before going back to their own thing. Pino stirred in your hands, hiding her face behind your fingers while she watched the scene, like she was embarrassed. It was cute, you noted, seeing her emulate Rody’s true feelings, now that you knew that’s what she did.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, man.”

“You’re kidding, right? Telling Izuku that All Might’s no big deal is like telling him you wished he’d go die.”

Izuku scoffed, though he still clung to Rody like his life depended on it.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” He scolded. 

Disregarding the two, you set down Pino on your lap and opened your own gift, pulling out a pair of mittens.

“Oh, ha ha,” You said with a roll of your eyes. Rody grinned.

“You’ve got a few more days left here. Thought you and your cold hands might be able to get some nice use outta them.”

They were actually very nice, though, and you knew he probably spent a good chunk of money on them. They were cotton, dyed your favorite color and incredibly soft under your touch. You slipped your hands into them and immediately felt warm.

“Thanks, Rody,” You told him, knowing you would get some good use out of them, even back home.

You couldn’t help but join Izuku and Rody on the couch, wrapping your arms around Rody’s side. Izuku did the same again, squishing him between the two of you.

“Alright you guys, no need for that. Enough of the hugs.”

But it was too late, because Roro and Lala took notice of the scene on the couch. Lala jumped up, taking Roro’s hand and forcing him up as well, dragging him over so they could join in on the group hug.

Rody struggled underneath the four of your affections, eventually managing to coax you all off of him at the mention of making breakfast. You left the kids in the living room to play with their new things while you and Izuku followed Rody into the kitchen with the offer of helping him make it.

"So. You two seemed rather snuggled up last night." Rody said almost as soon as you were all alone, Like he’d just been waiting for the right moment to bring it up

You glanced at Izuku with flushed cheeks to find him doing the same t oyou. Rody raised an eyebrow, suspicious, before turning away. 

"I knew it" He hissed, barely loud enough above his breath to hear. But you did, and your heart twisted in pain at the sound of disappointment in his voice. Your eyes flashed over to watch Pino, sitting on the counter not too far from you, slouched against the wall and head cast down. 

"Actually, about that. We wanted to talk to you about something."

Rody busied himself by taking out the pans he'd need to make breakfast and laid them all out of the stove top. 

“Uh… okay? What is it?” 

"Well, you see… Y/n and I were talking last night and, well we were talking about you… and about us. And-” He clamored over his own words, then let out a frustrated groan,”This is a lot harder then I thought it would be…"

You smiled, taking Izuku's clammy hand in yours, squeezing it softly. Feeling your touch brought him some of his courage back. 

"Look, what I’m trying to ask is, well, we wanted to know if you have any feelings for us."

There was a beat of silence, just staring at each other while Rody moved about the kitchen, taking out ingredients for your meal. Then he scoffed at you, his back still turned.

"Yeah right. Not a chance."

Your heart nearly dropped at the dismissive, almost cold, brutal bluntness of his comment. But your attention was drawn to Pino, who squawked, flapping her wings frantically. She took flight, making a frenzied loop around the kitchen before darting out. Clearly she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Uhh," Rody coughed, drawing you and Izuku's attentions back on him, "That was weird. Wonder what riled her up."

"You and I both know what riled her up, Rody. You can stop acting so cool. And be honest."

Rody turned back towards Izuku, and his pretty grey eyes shimmered with so much emotion. With conflict, and fear, and the whimsical feeling of love. With the realization that he’s backed into a corner. That he can’t run from it all anymore.

"So what if I do have feelings you?"

"We like you too. We talked for a while about it last night."

Rody's jaw dropped to the floor and his eyes went wider then what seemed possible. It was like he couldn't have ever imagined that to be a possibility. That not only one, but both people of his heart desires shared his feelings. 

He wanted to believe that it was some weird joke. That you’d both start laughing, announcing your ruse with a “gotcha!” and “Just kidding!” Despite how much that hurt to think, he almost preferred it to the confusion swirling around his head.

“Right. So where’s the cameras?”

“That’s not- we’re serious, Rody. Promise.” You said, and he knew you both were telling the truth, because you looked just as hurt as he felt at the thought that you would pull on his leg like that.

“We really like you... And we kinda thought, maybe you’d want to be in a relationship with us?” That was Deku, that time, a timid smile on his perfect, perfect lips.

The logic of it was flawed. You both lived in an entirely different country then Rody did. Being in a long distance relationship, all while grappling with work and schooling... Could he really do it?

“Okay, fine, you got me. I do like you both. But… a relationship between the three of us? Long distance? Don’t you think that’ll be a little… complicated?”

“M-maybe a little,” Izuku said, twiddling his fingers, “But there’s no pressure to start right now if you don’t want to. We know you’re busy, but soon enough you’ll be ready to start your pilot training… You wanted to move to Japan to get your license, didn’t you?”

Rody nodded, but his eyes still looked skeptical, not understanding Izuku’s meaning.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m willing to wait for you. And I think Y/n is too.” 

“Yeah, definitely. And we can still call and text each other, so that means you and I will have plenty of time to really get to know each other!”

Rody still looked unsure, eyes bouncing from one of you to the other. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, considering the offer. 

Despite his attempt to stay cool, his heart was pounding in his chest. How could it not be? When The Izuku Midoriya- the boy Rody's harbored feelings for since that night in the cave, after patching up the hero's wounds- is standing here confessing his own feelings for Rody. All while you- Izuku's adorable little friend that he brought along with him, who Rody had also started crushing on over your time together- nodded along because you liked him too.

Was Rody the luckiest man on Earth? Scoring the jackpot with the two cutest people he'd ever met. Perhaps the only two people who'd ever really made him feel anything(expect his siblings, of course, but that was a different kind of love) like this in his heart? And the way the two of you were looking at him, with big, hopeful eyes.

How could he ever reject that? Even if he knew it’d be tough. Rody’s whole life was nothing but tough. If he’d made it this far, then what was one more challenge?

Rody went back to the task at hand, and it wasn't just because he was completely embarrassed. He didn't want the food he’d started to cook to burn, which it would if he stayed distracted for long.

"Okay. We can try this."

It was such a simple response. Just a simple, quiet response. But it felt like a whole breath of fresh air, tickling Rody’s lungs like something simply wonderful.

"Really!?" Izuku asked behind him. He could just feel the excitement radiating off of you both. And then he literally felt your excitement when you both pounced on him, hugging him within an inch of his life.

"Alright, alright, enough of the hugs! What's with you two?" He said. But he wasn't upset at all, and you knew that. He was just overwhelmed, and unsure how to process it.

"You're gonna have to get used to it if you're gonna be with us, Rody."

It wasn't but a second later that you felt something plop down onto your shoulder and wrap around your neck. You didn't even have to look to recognize the feeling of Pino's fluffy feathers. She'd returned, hugging her wings around your neck, giving out the affection that Rody couldn't bring himself to. 

"'Kay, that's enough now. Are you guys gonna help with breakfast or what?"

Three days later you were back at the airport, standing at the entrance with Rody and Izuku. The kids stayed at home, you'd said your teary goodbyes to them before you left. Now it was just the three of you, and two tickets back to Japan. 

"Thanks for everything, Rody. I had so much fun.”

“Yeah, seriously, thanks for letting us stay.”

“It was no problem. It was nice having you guys around. Gets pretty lonely with just me and the kids sometimes”

“We’ll try to make it back up sometime soon,” You said, though you all knew it’d be tough. You were lucky that you worked from home, but Izuku fought tooth and nail to get this long off for the holidays, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to any more time for vacation any time soon

“Even if we can’t though, we’ll call you every day.”

“Yeesh, every day?” Rody said with a low whistle, “Clingy much?”

Izuku laughed, punching his arm. Rody tried to cover it up, but you could tell it hurt him.

“Oh, shut up.”

You heard the call for the passengers of your flight ring out through the overhead speakers, and the three of you shared a collective sigh.

“Well. Looks like this is goodbye.”

“For now,” You added, wrapping Rody into a hug. Izuku did the same, holding you both in his long arms.

You heard a sniffle, and when you looked up you saw Rody, tears welling up over his lower waterline.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No! Of course not…”

“It’s okay if you’re crying, Rody,” Izuku affirmed, patting his head, “We’ll miss you too.”

“I’m not-ugh,” Rody cut himself off, separating himself from you to wipe his eyes with his coat sleeve. Izuku smiled, leaning in and planting a kiss against his forehead.

“We’ll call you when we land, ‘kay?”

“Y-Yeah. Alright.”

You both hugged him again, pressing kisses to each one of his cheeks.

“We’ll talk to you soon, Rody.”

It was bittersweet, watching you both walk off together. On one hand, the past few days with the two of you had been… so wonderful. Slouched against each other on the couch, heads and legs resting on each other’s laps. Holding each other from behind when another was busy doing something in the kitchen. Sneaky kisses exchanged when the kids weren’t looking(Although they’re smart, and they caught on quick.)

But still, Rody didn’t know when the next time he’d see you again would be. It could be months, maybe even a year. And it hurt. 

Pino chirped as she watched you. Rody just barely caught her before she took flight after you. 

“I know, Pino,” He said, voice solemn, “But we’ll see them again, y’know. Maybe next time we do, we’ll be going to Japan, and I’ll have my pilot’s license.”

He didn’t know what the hell the two of you did to him, Rody was never one for hoping. Never one for maybe’s or what-if’s. He was practical, because he had to be, only pursuing what he knew was possible for the sake of supporting his family. But now look at him. Chasing after what he once saw as an impossible dream, yearning in his heart for two people who were literal miles away from him. At least, they would be, in a few hours.

He knew he had Deku to thank for that, most of all. Meeting him changed Rody’s perspective on things, changed his life. And because of that wild haired hero, Rody had the privilege of yearning. Of hoping and dreaming.

After what seemed like forever, just watching you two until you disappeared, he turned and left. Pino was still hesitant, trying to wiggle free from the hands that encapsulated her. But Rody just smiled.

“It’s alright, Pino. We’ll see them again. I know we will.”

And with a sigh, Pino calmed down.

[seijorhi]

To the Wolves

my (first) entry for the Deal With the Devil collab, because i couldn’t resist writing for Yakuza Getou <33

Getou Suguru x Female Reader

TW Extremely dubious consent, coercion, manipulation, threats, implied murder, smut, nsfw

“No. I- I won’t.”

Sitting comfortably on the old, worn couch in your cramped little apartment, Getou raises a single eyebrow, “Oh? Is that so?”

His voice is perfectly pleasant, the smile on his face a touch amused, but you’re not so naive as to believe that the question is anything but a generous offer for you to rethink your reply. A smart person would take it – since the day you’d first arrived home to find him waiting for you, Getou hadn’t so much as laid a finger on you. He had no need for guns or knives, never shouted or bullied you, his reputation more than enough to cow you into submission before he’d even opened his mouth.

Of course, once he had, the simple threats to your friends and family’s lives had made certain that you were more than amenable to his request.

A mutually beneficial arrangement, he’d called it, as if there hadn’t been tears silently streaming down your face, your whole body stiff with fear. 

But that was the world he came from. Violence and ruthlessness, cruelty masquerading as kindness.

By all accounts, someone like you – a lowly admin assistant living a very boring, mundane life – should never have crossed paths with a man like Getou. The irony, of course, being that it was precisely because of your job that he’d been drawn to you in the first place. 

“I-I said no,” you stammer. “I’m not doing it.”

Getou sighs, long, pale fingers idly fixing the cuff of his left sleeve. “I had no idea the lives of your loved ones meant so little to you.”  

“Please, I-” you break off, biting your lip as your hands curl into useless fists at your side, “I can’t. Anything else, I’ll do anything, I swear it, just… please.”

Men like Getou aren’t the type to be swayed by pretty words or tearful pleas, but there’s an unmistakable glimmer of interest that flickers in his eyes at the offer. Casually, he leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand and regarding you with a smirk. “So you’ll bring me the list of witnesses then?”

The barely audible hitch in your breath is enough to make him chuckle.

“No? How about those surveillance tapes, hm?” Smoothly, he rises to his feet and makes his way towards you. “Careful, little one, first rule of negotiation is knowing when you have something to bargain with. Don’t promise me what you can’t give.”

“Getou–”

He raises a hand and you quickly fall silent. There’s only inches between you two now, Getou’s taller, broader frame looming over yours. He could kill you like this, you realise with panic – reach out and wrap his hands around your throat and snap your pretty little neck before you could so much as scream. The tailored line of his jacket hides the gun he has holstered at his side, but Getou knows you're aware of its presence, have been since the very first time he’d broken into your home and threatened you. 

It’d take him only moments to draw the sidearm, even less for him to pull the trigger.

The walls of your apartment are thin, would your neighbours come if they heard gunfire? Would you, for that matter, if your roles were reversed?

Yet Getou makes no move for his gun, instead reaching for your chin, tilting it up with two curled fingers until you meet his gaze, “You understand, don’t you, that I make one phone call and that charming sister of yours and her fiance meet a very tragic, very untimely end?”

He pauses, waiting until you jerk a quick nod of assent before continuing. “You love them. There’s nothing wrong with that, nothing wrong with prioritising the ones you love over everybody else.” His voice is gentle, but the words make you shake, dread rising from the pit of your stomach as the pad of his thumb grazes over your bottom lip. 

You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something to that, but even as you try, you can’t summon the words. The by now familiar scent of his cologne tickles your nose and invades your throat, the warmth of his touch burning through your veins. Your own heart hammers like a drumbeat in your chest, every cell in your body screaming danger, but you don’t run, you don’t even flinch.

Getou smiles kindly, and perhaps if you hadn’t seen first hand the aftermath of his handiwork you might be tempted to believe it. His spare hand reaches into his jacket, but instead of the gun you’re expecting, he pulls out his phone, the screen flickering to life with a swipe of his finger. “So tell me, before I make a call you and I both know you don’t want me to make, why you’ve suddenly decided that their lives aren’t worth your compliance?”

Nanami. Your boss’s face flashes to your mind, the odd, fleeting glances he’d sent your way over the past few weeks when he’d thought you weren’t paying attention. Your stomach erupts with butterflies, your cheeks unwittingly warming, but you just shake your head, “If I give you those files, you’ll kill them. You’ll hurt them.”

“Maybe,” he hums, “maybe not. It’s no less than those monkeys deserve, don’t you think?” He spits the word like it’s venom, the twitch in his jaw the only chink in his otherwise effortless composure. “You’re protecting them, even now.”

You make no attempt to defend yourself, terrified of saying the wrong thing and setting him off, but Getou seems entirely unfazed, laughing coldly at your stricken expression.

“Your boss, the one with the perpetual stick up his ass; Nanami,” potent disdain drips from his tone at the name, “Always so morally righteous, sitting up on his high horse. You think he cares for you, that he’ll protect you when all of this comes out? And it will come out eventually,” he says, his smirk widening at the sudden pallor in your face. “At some point there’ll be one too many unfortunate coincidences, and the higher ups will realise that they have a mole in their ranks. Fingers will be pointed of course, but eventually even those idiots will figure it out.”

A knot tightens inside of your chest at his words, constricting until it feels like you can’t breathe. You’re shaking your head, eyes filling with tears, “N-no–”

“Oh, little one,” Getou murmurs, dark eyes drinking in every ounce of your distress. “Surely you realised that they have security cameras covering every inch of your floor? There was no reason to look before, but once they do…” he trails off, letting go of your chin in favour of brushing the back of his knuckles along your cheek. “They’ll throw you to the wolves.”

His voice is soft and cruel, belied by the gentleness of his touch, but it does nothing to quell the rising sense of dread inside of you. You want to believe it’s a lie, another threat meant to scare you into submission, but some deeper part of you recognises the truth in his words. 

Nanami, who’d told you once that there was innocence and there was guilt and very little in between. Nanami, whose office you’d bugged, whose trial only weeks ago you’d all but derailed with a few misplaced documents. You think back to the late nights shared in his office, bowls of ramen and case files scattered across the desk between you. You think of the rare smiles, his oddly dry sense of humour, the pleasant fluttering in your heart–

“You’ll rot in prison long before I do, and there is not a soul among that insipid bunch that would lift a finger to stop that from happening to you.” 

A soft, strangled noise leaves your lips as you fight not to sob, and Getou sighs, the corners of his lips twitching downwards in contrived sympathy. “Say the word and I’ll walk away tonight. I’ll still have to kill your sister – I am a man of my word, you understand – but I promise it’ll be the last you see of me.”

He slides his phone back into the breast pocket of his jacket, taking your face in both of his hands as tears spill down long lashes. “And when they come for you, you can tell them I threatened you, show them what little proof you have – if you have any at all. Maybe it’ll even make a difference,” he says. “But I doubt it.”

Every word is like a knife, slicing away at the raw, bleeding, vulnerable parts of you.

“Please…” It’s weak and desperate, your voice cracked and broken. You don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore; your sister’s life, for Getou’s mercy, or maybe just for him to stop saying such awful things. He must take pity on you though, because he sighs once more, his right thumb sweeping across your wet cheek to brush away silvery tear tracks. 

“I’m not a complete monster, you know. I protect what’s mine.”

And in one breath, everything screeches to a standstill and a trickle of very real fear creeps down your spine. There’s no mistaking his implication, not when he’s holding your face like that, his eyes dark and simmering with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

“W-what?”

Getou closes the gap between you two, a startled noise leaving your lips as his hips press flush up against you. “Don’t play stupid, sweet thing,” he murmurs, and it sounds like a warning, “It doesn’t suit you.”

One hand slips to your neck, the other curling almost possessively around your waist. There’s no room for you to move, to back away or free yourself. For a moment, neither of you speak, the heavy silence deafening between you.

Does he notice the way your pulse races under his fingertips as they circle your throat, how you’re shaking like a leaf beneath him? Does he want you afraid? A scared little bunny rabbit cowering from the gaping maw of the big, bad wolf? 

Judging from the bulge of his semi-hard cock pressing into the soft flesh of your belly, he’s not entirely unaffected, and for the first time it’s not Getou’s gun or his threats that you’re most afraid of. 

It’s the selfish, twisted want that glitters and glints in those pitiless depths. You’ve never felt so entirely at somebody else’s mercy as you do with Getou now, staring you down like he wants to lay you bare, claim you again and again for all the world to see. And you don’t understand. There’s a thousand and one questions running through your mind, your insides twisted up into knots. 

You know what it is he’s asking of you – though asking feels like a generous word when he can so easily just take – but none of this makes sense, not when he was threatening your family’s lives only minutes ago. 

As if he can sense the turmoil and confusion raging through you, he leans down, his lips ghosting over the outer shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll walk away right now.”

I am a man of my word. 

His earlier statement rings through your head as you search his face for any sign of deception – you find none. But walking away means your sister dies. It means you’re left on your own to fend off the wolves when they find out what you’ve done.

Nanami might believe you. He might even defend you, but you’ve worked in the Prosecutor’s office long enough to know that duress isn’t the bulletproof defence people think it is, and for tangling with the likes of him…

You were screwed the moment he showed up in your living room, this- this is just the coup de grâce. The final damnation.

“Why me?” 

Getou doesn’t answer, but when he draws you into a kiss, his lips moving torturously slow against yours, there’s an edge of… something there, lying hidden just beneath the surface. And it terrifies you, more than his words and his promises ever could.

But when your back’s to the wall, what choice do you really have?

It feels like defeat when he takes you by the hand and leads you into your bedroom, ignoring the uncertain glance you cast over your shoulder towards the living room. You don’t want any of this, but you can pretend that it’s just… business if he fucks you out there.

Not in the bed you sleep in.

It’d be easier, you think, if it was cold and impersonal. If you cried and it stung and the only sounds in the room were flesh hitting flesh, ragged breathing and an occasional rough grunt.

There’s nothing impersonal about the way he watches you strip out of your clothes at his command. His own join yours on the floor without much ceremony – his gun pointedly set just within reach atop your nightstand.

The first time you’d laid eyes on Getou Suguru, it was two months into your new job; a photograph pinned to a thick, heavy file Nanami had dropped on your desk. A surveillance picture, you’d gathered, snapped as the man was exiting some neon lit club downtown. And you remembered the smug smirk he’d had, staring directly down the lens of the camera like it was a challenge, but that wasn’t what had struck you most.

It was the flutter of interest that’d shot through your veins the moment before common sense kicked in. Tall and fit, with long, dark hair swept up in the wind, a sharp jaw and a handsome face, you remember thinking he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen.

Now, standing naked before you, bright, colourful tattoos inked across his torso, accentuating the muscles that rise and fall with every measured breath, you can’t bear to look. It’s easier just to stare at the wooden floorboards, the corner of the shagged rug you’d bought at a thrift store when you first moved in. Easier to pretend Getou isn’t pulling you closer once more, pressing searing, open mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring words that are lost to you entirely as his hands wander. You can feel it now, the heat of his body as he cages you in, his cock, thick and heavy and flushed nudging insistently up against your stomach.

You expect him to shove you to your knees, to force his cock down your throat in some archaic show of dominance before he claims your cunt, but he doesn’t. 

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” he whispers into your ear, teeth catching lightly on the sensitive lobe as you shiver. “Like you do when I’m not here, those pretty legs spread, fucking yourself on your fingers…”

The comment feels too familiar to be entirely offhanded, striking a chord of panic somewhere deep inside of you–

But it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter now.

You allow him to kiss you again before climbing onto the mattress. Like a good girl, you fall back onto the pillows, let your legs ease apart, wrapping your lips around two fingers and sucking for a brief moment before gliding your hand down between your thighs. 

His breath hitches, a soft curse sounding when saliva slicked digits spread your folds, the tip of your middle finger brushing lightly against your clit as you stroke your pussy. Your nipples harden and peak under the cool night air and you use your free hand to palm at your breast, pinching and teasing at the sensitive bud while one finger slips into the warmth of your cunt. 

The mattress dips, Getou climbing onto the bed, settling himself back on his knees, your spread legs either side of him.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. 

Your heart stutters, movements jerking as you brace for him to interfere, to touch you, but aside from nudging your thighs further apart to get a better view of your glistening cunt, he seems content simply to sit back and watch, his own hand lazily stroking at his cock.

Trying in vain to block him out, you squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the way your fingers feel between your legs, the pleasure–

 (Not the shame, don’t think about that, don’t think about Getou watching you debase yourself for his enjoyment)

–that pools in your core as you rub the shining pearl of your clit. It’s a familiar dance, a routine you’d normally help along with a glass of wine and a few faithful toys, but you don’t exactly have that luxury here.

And even with the rigid tension in your shoulders, the unwanted presence of a man you’re terrified of impossible to ignore, you can’t help the quiet moan that slips past your lips, the way your hips stutter, grinding against the heel of your palm as your fingers hit that sweet, delightful spot inside of you. 

Getou tenses at the sound, the last, fragile thread of his composure snapping–

He strikes fast. One moment you’re biting down on your bottom lip, your index and middle fingers knuckle deep in your dripping pussy, the next he’s braced atop you, one hand locked around your wrist, the other propping himself up. And as your eyes fly open with a startled cry, his lips crash against your once more – desperate and ravenous, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth to taste you.

And you don’t fight it when he pulls your hand from your pussy and drags it to his crotch, his fingers entwining with yours as he wraps them around his heavy, throbbing cock and moans. It’s humiliating, the way he thrusts into your hand, tightening his grip so you’re forced to feel every shivery twitch of his dick while he sucks eagerly on your tongue.

This is the choice you’d made, the deal you struck. It’s too late to back out now, and even if you tried to… 

“I want you,” he pants, his lips glistening with saliva, an almost manic look in those dark, pretty eyes, “to ride me.”

… you’re not so sure Getou would let you.

So you allow yourself to be manhandled, lifted and situated across his lap like a doll. Hands braced on his tattooed chest, you lift your hips just enough for him to guide his cock to your slick entrance before slowly sinking down onto his length.

Every inch hurts. 

It doesn’t make it any less painful, the way Getou soothes you, his thumbs stroking gently at your waist as you whine and mewl, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock as he stuffs you full.

“Fuck– good girl, taking me so well,” he purrs.

You’re not sure if it’s shame, pleasure, or some sense of twisted pride at the praise that has your pussy clenching, fire racing through your veins when Getou experimentally rocks his hips upwards. And if your cheeks weren’t already burning, the lewd moan that escapes you when the head of his cock hits your g-spot would certainly do the trick. 

Ever observant, he wastes no time capitalising on your slip, lifting you up just to drive you back down onto his length at the perfect angle. You shudder around him, keening out a cry that has him groaning in pleasure.

There’s no illusion of control here between you two.

You might be the one on top, but Getou’s grip’s too tight, guiding every roll of your hips against his, his own rising in time to fuck his cock deeper into your warm, velvety cunt. And somewhere distantly you recognise that this could be a thousand times worse. How easily he could change the narrative in a heartbeat, flip you over, force your face into the pillows and fuck you like a dog until you’re gasping for air. He could use you, hurt you, probably kill you without ever needing to touch the gun he’d left on your nightstand – and you wouldn’t have a hope in hell of stopping him.

But he doesn’t. Lying back against your pillows, dark hair falling from his half up-do, cheeks flushed from exertion, Getou’s attention is wholly fixed on you - on your face, eyes screwed shut, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he hits somewhere deep inside of you that has you seeing stars, on your tits, the way they bounce every time you sink back down onto his cock.

His eyes are hooded, dark and intense, searching for every hint of pleasure he’s drawn from you. You gasp his name, fingers digging into his chest, your cunt fluttering so deliciously around him – and he loses that last little bit of his self control. 

He jerks upright, one arm wrapping around your waist to anchor you to him as he braces himself with the other, and before you can so much as gasp his mouth is at your tits, hot tongue laving at soft, supple skin there.

“Suguru,” he growls, hips snapping feverishly against yours. 

“Suguru,” you parrot, head lolling back as heat coils tighter in your core. 

You’ll worry about the consequences later, when he pulls you boneless and sated into his arms and you feel his heart thumping at your back as he kisses you and tells you to sleep. When tomorrow you arrive at work and Nanami stares a beat too long as the love bites scattered across your throat, no doubt wondering why you won’t so much as look at him.

For now, you settle for pulling him closer, gasping as you chase that quaking, blissful end.

[holylulusworld]

The washing machine incident

Title: The washing machine incident

Square Filled: friends to lovers

Ship: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You wanted clean clothes. Sam wanted more.

Warnings: language, smut, unprotected sex, sex on a washing machine, dirty talk, creampie, possessive Sam, unintended voyeurism, Dean is just done

A/N: Inspired by the scene in 15x20.

Word Count: 1,9 k

Written/Created for: @winchesterandbeyondbingo​​

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​​​​

2021 Winchester and Beyond Bingo

“Sam,“ groaning you pinch the bridge of your nose. Sam leans against the washing machine, reading another book while you try to get his attention. While the hunter keeps on reading his book, you admire he’s taller than the shelf on the wall.

“Sam Winchester?” he still doesn’t react. Maybe the machine is too loud, or you are not loud enough but he keeps on reading his book, frowning when it starts to shake considerably, and so is Sam until he gives it a kick.

“Hey, you can’t just kick the poor machine,” he finally looks up from his book, smirking when you stand in front of him, your laundry tugged under your arm. “I was talking to you, Sam.”

“OH, it was your voice calling for me,” he husks, eying you up and down. “I thought Dean was watching porn or something. You sounded so—"

“I sounded like what, Sam,” you wonder. “I wanted to wash my clothes, but I see you are busy washing yours.” 

“You could’ve told me so,” he closes the book, placing it onto the shelf behind him. You use the momentum to admire his ass, whimpering when he sticks it out. “Next time, holler, and I will take care of your cute panties and bras.”

You blink a few times when Sam slowly moves toward you. He still has a smirk on his lips when he stands in front of you to cup your chin with two long fingers. 

“I think—,” you swallow thickly. His gaze too intense you drop your eyes to his throat, watching it contract. “I should wash my underwear, Sam.”

“I don’t mind,” he dips his head to look you deep in the eyes. A whimper escapes your lips, and you wonder if your panties will survive another moment close to Sam. “I wouldn’t mind taking it off first to sniff at it.” 

Your knees buckle the moment his lips claim yours. The kiss is soft at first. Sam’s large hand cradles your cheek gently, and you get lost in his taste and the way his lips move against yours. 

“Sam—” you moan against his lips, press your body closer to Sam’s to feel him against you. “What are we doing here?” you are friends for as long as you remember, and you don’t want to ruin your friendship for a stupid crush.

“I don’t know what you are doing, baby doll,” he pecks your lips, tongue licking into your mouth. He groans when you grasp for his hair, harshly tugging at his silky stands. “But I will fuck you on the washing machine until you scream my name.”

“What?” an odd noise leaves your throat when Sam easily picks you up to place you onto the washing machine. He steps between your legs, already tugging at the plaid you stole from him. 

“I said I will fuck you,” he kisses you again, more demanding this time, “fuck, use your tongue,” Sam breathlessly moans, urging you on to explore his mouth just like he does.

“Sam, we are friends and—” one large hand cups the back of your neck to force you to hold his gaze.” Saaam…” his other hand deftly unbuttons your plaid, or rather Sam’s, but who has got the time to define ownership when his large hand gropes one of your breasts.

“I’m going to fuck you on this washing machine, fill you up so good with my cock you’ll never want anyone else. I waited long enough,” he purrs against your lips. “I’m a patient man, but my patience is wearing thin for months.”

“You want to fuck me,” your hands shoot forward to grip his plain grey shirt, tugging harshly at the fabric to bring him down to your eye level. “Sam Winchester, if that’s a bad joke I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“Y/N,” he grins while shoving the plaid you are wearing down your shoulders to reveal your chest  to him, “you have a way to get a guy hard.”

“I just don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you squeak when Sam fists your bra to rip it into two halves. He ignores the pout on your lips, simply kisses it away. “SAM!”

“I told you,” he shoves one hand down your panties to toy with your swollen clit, “my patience is gone. I fantasized about fucking you for a month now.” he grins wolfishly, before he shoves two long fingers into your slit, causing you to jolt backward, hitting your head on the shelf behind you.

“Fuck, Sam. Oh god,” you move to the edge of the machine to grind against his fingers. The washing machine vibrates underneath your ass, and you suddenly know why so many of your friends told you they love to fuck on a washing machine.

“You’ve got such a nice and tight little pussy,” the way Sam talks to you is more than filthy. Not in your wildest dreams did you imagine Sam Winchester is a dirty talker. “I will fuck you so deep and hard you’ll walk funny for days.”

“What if Dean walks in on us,” you fight to unbuckle Sam’s belt, cursing when Sam slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt to help you shove his pants and boxers down. 

“Impatient much, kitten,” you furrow your brows at the pet name but don’t mind, too busy to get Sam out of his clothes. “What do you want to see first?”

“Fuck me,” you lick your lips when Sam’s cock springs free. He’s thick, veiny, and all you want from a cock. “How do you hide that monster in your pants?”

Sam moans deeply when you gently start to run your hand up and down.

“I—fuck me,” Sam groans. He throws his head back, hands grasping for your thighs to dig his blunt nails into your flesh. “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum right here all over you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” your cheeks heat up when Sam looks down at you, snickering at your boldness, “but I want you inside today. We can talk about the other thing later, when you filled me up so good I will walk funny—”

Dean is washing the dishes in the kitchen wondering why you didn’t come back to help him like promised. “Sammy? Y/N?” grumbling Dean grabs the next plate. “Where are you? I thought they wanted to help me.”

Miracle looks up at Dean, whining when the hunter puts the plate aside. “I bet they are hiding from me to leave me to the dirty dishes, Miracle. How about we go and look for them. I won’t clean the kitchen alone…”

“Sam,” you grip his shoulders, dig your nails into his flesh when he hastily spreads your legs. For a moment he just looks down at your chest, watches it rise and fall. “Fuck me.”

“I’m on it, kitten,” he grips the base of his cock, runs his large hand up and down his length. “Do you think you can take me?”

“I want to feel that monster split me open,” your lips part the minute Sam runs the wide head up and down your clit, teasingly slapping your little nub with his cock. “Please.”

“Beg me again, baby girl—” you whine, wanting Sam to finally give you what your body is craving. “I want to hear it.” the washing machine makes an odd noise, just like you when Sam grips his cock to push the tip in.

“Fuck—” you watch Sam grip the shelf above your head with one large hand to get more leverage to shove himself into you. He’s too engrossed to watch his cock disappear inside your body to care about your nails scratching down his bare chest. “OH, fuck, Sam.”

“There you go, Y/N,” he grins down at you, watches you pant heavily. Your body fights the wide stretch, tries to accommodate Sam’s size but it’s no use. “So, fucking tight for me.”

“You’re simply too big,” you complain, still, you wrap your legs around his waistline to tilt your hips, taking the last inches of his length. “I think, I never felt so full.”

“Good,” his other hand grips your right thigh, squeezes your flesh hard enough to hurt. “You’re mine, just like your tight little pussy. No one will touch you ever again.”

Sam moves slowly at first, gives you shallow thrusts while his hand grips the shelf tighter. You fear he will tear the shelf off the wall sooner or later if he doesn’t stop using all his strength. 

The veins in his arm stick out, sweat runs down his chest and you are sure, no other guy ever looked so good while fucking you.

While your lover is busy cupping your face with his free hand to force you to meet his intense gaze, you try to focus on anything but his hazel eyes watching you. 

You rock your hips, legs still slung around Sam’s waist while he just watches you take his cock as he dreamed of so many times.

The rhythmic rocking of the washing machine and the way Sam moves inside of you already have you on the edge. The heat in your abdomen rises; turns into a raging fire when Sam angles his hips to hit that sweet spot letting your vision white out.

“Fuck, I wanna have you over that machine,” you whine when he pulls out to help you turn on the machine. “Always wanted to hold you down and fuck that pussy when you bent over the table at the library.”

“Ah, Sam—” he kicks your legs apart while you grip the edge of the washing machine. “Fuck, I wanna cum.”

“You will,” he slowly inches his way back inside your body. “Right fucking now, kitten. I will fuck you over that machine and later, on any surface. My bed will be the endgame.”

“Y-you thought about this a lot, huh?” Sam grips your hips, to drag you onto his length with every thrust. “Shit, you did…”

“Yeah,” he states, hips crashing into your ass. Sam is by all means not gentle anymore. He roughly slides into you, groaning when you take every punishing thrust. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

D-dito,” you cry out. Your walls grip his length tightly, clench painfully around his cock to milk him dry. “Ah, shit. You just came inside.”

“I will always fill you up,” Sam states. “I marked this cunt, and no one will ever take it away from me.” 

While you lie on top of the washing machine, catching your breath, Sam leans over you to kiss your neck softly. 

“Fine, but no funny business at the kitchen, we eat there, Sam.”

“Oh kitten, I will christen every room at the bunker with you, fuck you everywhere. Even on top of my brother’s car…”

“No, you won’t! Keep my Baby out of this—” Dean grunts, covering his eyes with the dishtowel. “Whatever this is. Guys, we wash our clothes here. Can you just not?”

“It was an accident…” you lie. “Sorry, D’.”

“Oh, did Sam slip and end up inside of you?” turning around Dean whistles for Miracle. “Boy, don’t look at them. They are disgusting and this is not for your eyes. Let’s go.”

“Sorry, Dean,” Sam snickers when his big brother storms out of the room. 

“About time you fucked, but you won’t do it at a room we share ever again. And hands off my car!”

In the coming years, Dean will bring up the washing machine incident whenever he wants you or Sam to clean the bunker…

Tags in reblog.

[rcksmith]

Secret — Five Hargreeves

Requests: “For Five Hargreeves — can I get 97, 91 28 and 35 for a heavy smut? And 40 from fluff? If it isn’t too much trouble!”

“If it’s not too much trouble could I do 40,53 & 91 from the smut prompts for Five ty honey 💕”

Smut prompts:

28. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

35. “Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.”

40. “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”

53. “Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.

91. “guess i'll just have to cum in you then’

97. “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

Fluff prompts:

40. “Come cuddle.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

Guys, I really understand who doesn’t feel comfortable reading or writing Five’s smut. But I always say that I only write with him (any genre: romance, fluff or angst) with the notion that Five is 20 years old here. All of my fanfics mention swearing or sex, even if it is a memory or something shallow, but as I am writing with Five as an adult, it is consistent that the fic has aspects of an adult life.//

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit heavy smut, swearing, fluff too.

— — — — —

It was one of those warm nights, which carry a searing and heaving sensation in the back, which had a malicious tone in the air, which stirs your body to choose bad decisions, making your hands itch and your heart racing for something...intense. It was one of those hours that passed midnight, that breath was heavy with the expectation of something extraordinary, that skin prickled just with the images in mind.

And you were in that state. Heart pounding heavily, yearning for something, caustic breathing, the environment with an energy of lust. Well, at least you was like that.

Five did not share your line of reasoning, or, if he were not oblivious to the malicious moonlight that rose in the sky, he was pretending very well. Sipping a margarita at the bar in the Hargreeves mansion, with calculations in front of him taking all his attention. Normally, you loved that he focused on his own things. But now... you were seething with something that only Five could placate.

It was a few months ago that you went from just being friends with his siblings to someone he fucked hard at night. The sexual energy between the two of you was very strong, and it was very easy to make bad decisions when the bad decision in question was so fucking hot.

Five Hargreeves did things to you. You wouldn't know how to explain it with clear phrases, but his gaze made you shiver, his body made a very specific part in the middle of your legs vibrate, and his voice and that self-centered smile... God!

It was no accident that you surrendered. You would have surrendered to that battle a million times.

“Five.” You sighed softly, taking a sip from your own drink. “Can't you do this tomorrow?”

“No. I am close to solving this.”

You controlled yourself not to roll your eyes. You were never the most needy type, especially with people as reserved as Five, but, damn it, you were on fire. It was logical that you could go out and choose someone to placate that, but that would trigger many things between Five and you. He hated that you were with someone else, even though he himself didn't assuming out to you.

It are a delicate situation, you were friends with all the Hargreeves siblings, and it would be a racket if they knew that their brother was fucking one of theys best friends.

The warm evening breeze came in through the window and collided with the chill of the drink running down your throat, awakening even more lustful anxieties.

“Five..." You purred, got up from the armchair on the counter, still behind Five and slid your hands over his shoulders "Maybe...you might want to finish this later.” You whispered at the foot of his ear.

Even without seeing him, you could feel that he was letting go of one of his arrogant and malicious smiles. Five rotated the seat to be face to face with you, his legs spread wider to accommodate you between them.

“And what are you going to do to distract me?” That same defiant, boastful voice.

But the look he gave you made a shock of desire reverberate through your body. Five wanted to play? Okay, you were going to play a game whit him.

“Why did you…” you leaned forward gently, resting one hand on his hot thigh, leaving your cleavage exposed “don't try guess?”

You realized that he had swallowed hard, even though his posture had remained unwavering. Five looked down at you cleavage, waist, and slightly elevated butt. You approached him a few more inches, your mouth a breath away, the heat of the bodies being shared without even touching.

Five could drive you crazy and screaming, but you knew it could also drive him insanity.

When you leaned over a little more and your mouths were so close to meet, you changed the direction and reached out with your free hand to pick up Five's margarita behind him. You straightened up and away, with a mischievous smile on your lips that revealed that everything had gone as planned.

Five semi closed his eyes at you, a fiery glow going through his eyes.

“Do you want to play with me?”His voice was low, dangerous “You know what happens to you when you challenge me.”

It was a warning, clear and resonant. You were a good girl for Five because you knew the strength that he could fuck you. Fuck, he could break you if he want. But now you were sexually frustrated, aroused, with a racing heart and wheezing from the expectation of something.

A night of bad decisions.

“You don't want to get out of your equations.” You turned your voice into something innocent, soft, provocative, and the strong breath that Five drew was a small victory for you "I guess I'll just get off all by myself."

Your smile was malicious, causticante, but as soon as Five got up from that chair, the perfect posture, much taller than you, and was slowly towards you, like a predator with its prey, you knew you were screwed.

“Do you want to come this much?” His fingers passed gently over your warm neck, and you let out a breath with that stupid touch.

Five moved closer, your chest glued to his, the hot, citrusy breath of alcohol hitting your nose. Something wetted you panties, making you bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from sighing any louder.

“Would you use your little toy thinking about the times that I fucked you so hard that you couldn't walk the next day?”

That was too much for your already sensitive system. Those words went directly to the thread that connected your heart and its pulsating nucleus, causing a burning note to reverberate.

“Five...”the sigh came out, while the memories of Five using your vibrator to push you to the limit, while him fucking you brutally, prowled like a wild beast in your mind.

Five slid the fingers from your neck to your cleavage, brushing the tips of her fingers across the flesh of your breasts. Five stuffed his forefinger into your cleavage and pulled you to him.

You moaned softly, in a purr.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?" The whispered floated in your ear, while you put down the margarita at the bar and held your hands in his arms.

You bit your bottom lip, your panties soaked, your heart beating fast in your chest, the atmosphere more wild and fiery.

“You want this?” Five slowly lowered a strap from your blouse, each second speeding up your heart even more.

“Yes...” You sighed “I really want to, please.”

Then Five's touch got rougher and he held your chin firmly, lifting you face to look him in the eye.

“Beg.” It was an order, but your body was sending millions of feelings to you that you were lost for a second "beg!”

“P-please.” You looked at him pleadingly “Fuck me so badly, please.”

His grip got stronger.

“Once again.” Now the other hand slid roughly over your body, squeezing your waist, thigh, ass, anything that Five could mark as his property.

“Please, I'm begging you to eat me.” You really were, your body needed more, and there was no denying it.

So in the blink of an eye, the blue flash swallowed you both up and took you to his room. You were dizzy for a second, you were not used to his tricks. But Five used it as a bonus and stuck his lips to yours, stunning you with the strong taste of alcohol, desire and lust.

You moaned softly, your hands working to free him from his clothes, your lips corresponding to the battle. You managed to strip off his shirt layers and fade his pants, but Five didn't have the same patience as you. He didn't wait to undress you, he tore the thin fabric and opened your bra hungry, in a hurry, as if you were his last meal.

In a second his hot mouth was on your breast, sucking and nibbling at the needy skin aggressively, his fierce hands pulling you out of the other pieces of clothing. Five was not delicate, loving and caring, he conquered, took, owned, his goal was to devour you until his savagery was sated.

“Fi-Five!” You moaned loudly, your naked body now shaking with desire, your heart exploding in your chest.

You would have said something more if Five hadn't pushed you to the bed and made you fall into it. He pulled your legs apart, exposing you completely to him. His eyes burned with a dangerous and brutal fire, and Five slapped down the inside of your thigh. You screamed, arching your back, your hands closing on the sheet.

“Well, since you want to cum so badly…” Five climbed on top of you, his mouth proving the point where he had hit you “why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, his mouth was right in the middle of your pulsating core. Eating, sucking, tasting everything you willingly offered to him so much. You moaned, or screamed, your hands tightly squeezing the sheet, digging your nails into the fabric.

Five ate you at an undisturbed pace, as if you were the last meal in the desert, clasping his hands on your waist to keep you immobile, sinking his mouth deeper into you. His tongue opened its yours walls, circled her clitoris and sucked there, leaving a hot trail of spittle. You moaned loudly, your waist trying to fight the firm grip of his hands to roll in him mouth. You felt a thread about to burst inside you and your heart started to race in your chest.

“F-Five!” You screamed when he sucked your clitoris, and he could feel you pulsing in his mouth, signaling that you were close.

“Come for me, little slut.”

The vibration of his voice in your sensitive flesh was the trigger you needed, you came intensely, your legs wobbly, your breathing heavy, but Five didn't wait for you to finish coming before climbing on top of you, lowering his pants and underwear enough and brutally get inside you in a fraction of a second.

You groaned loudly, your hands clasping his bare shoulders, your walls hypersensitive to the end of the orgasm that was still breaking free. It was too much for you, your eyes stung with tears, your heart was racing a marathon in your chest, and your whole body was shaking.

Five doesn't give you a second to get used to it, or to get down from the sensation of your orgasms, he set a rough, hard, badly rhythm, entering inside you in penetrations that pushed your body upwards. You spread your legs wider and wrapped them around Five's waist, your chest glued to his chest, skin-to-skin contact being the extra to drive you crazy.

It was too much for you to take, too much for your hypersensitive body. Five silenced your broken moans with toxic kisses.

“Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.” His voice was hoarse, breathy, broken, Five drives his dick so deep inside you as possible with every word.

“I...I can't...”You whimpered in his mouth, clasping your hands in Five's hot flesh, sobbing at the strength he put in you, you needed more.

“So let's take care of it.”

Five released an aggressive and rough hickey on your neck, putting an arm around your waist, sticking every inch of their bodies together, and his free hand covered your mouth, drowning out yours screams. You thought it was going to placate his hard rhythm, but Five started pulling your waist down, against his dick, and sinking deeper inside you.

“You wanted me to fuck you, didn't you?” Five snarled, looking into yours watery eyes "Now take it, fuck!."

His dirty words only led you further towards the second abyss. Five fucked you so hard that you couldn't answer, let alone whit the heavy hand on your mouth. Yours hands sank into the skin on his back, yours legs pulling him hips towards you, desperate to placate what was about to burst.

Five could feel yours tight walls throbbing on his dick, signaling that you were going to come any second. He groaned loudly, clenching his teeth on the skin of your neck so as not to make a noise, thrusting his dick as deep as possible into you. He replaced the hand in your mouth with his own lips, swallowing yours moans and trying to keep the sounds of you both low.

“I ... I'm going to...” You cried with pleasure, pain, desire, his rhythm hurt but it gave you so much hunger and pleasure that you could feel the liquid of your arousal soaking his dick.

Five looked at you in a way full of lust and with a very desire to break you. Oh he wanted to destroy you.

He came out of you, making you let out a loud moan of frustration and tears streaming from yours eyes. You whimpered loudly, and Five switched positions and pulled you hard into his lap, giving you no time to straighten up before he pushed his dick into you and aggressively stuck both hands to your waist.

You bit your lip hard to keep from screaming, trembling hands resting on his chest as Five pulled you up and down brutally, thrusting his dick in as deep as possible in you. He did not contain an aggressive groan at the sight of yours breasts jumping on his face, body sweaty and marked by fingers and hickeys, the inside of yours thighs already red by the force that Five shocked the body in you.

“Pl ... please!”

You begged, your face smeared with mascara and tears, your lips red from raw kisses, your hair sweaty. You looked like a goddess and Five wanted even more to destroy you.

“Do you want to come?” His voice was breathless, hoarse, fierce.

You nodded frantically, looking at Five with beg, begging him to let you come. It seemed to have an overwhelming effect on him. Five slapped your ass down, raising his hand to your back and pulling you forward, making your chest lie on his while the rhythm reached new places.

You bit his shoulder to keep from screaming, tears streaming down your face.

“If you come in this position, I will not control myself.” He snarled at you.

“I do not mind!” You begged, moving your waist to match his rhythm.

“Guess i'll just have to cum in you then” Then Five kissed you, hard, bad, dropped a hand to your clitoris and applied the trigger you needed to collapse.

You sank your mouth into the skin of his neck to muffle your scream, and soon a hot, thick liquid was filling you to the brim, taking up every inch inside you. You whimpered loudly against Five, hims hips doing the final thrusts to make sure the cum was filling you, his warm hands loosening the aggressive grip.

You both breathed loudly, your legs were shaking, your hair was stuck to your face and it took you two minutes to lift your face and look at Five. He gave you an arrogant smile of ‘I said I was going to break you and I broke’ and you laughed softly.

“I don't think I can get up.” You laughed, and Five removed a lock of hair from your face. “Do you think they heard us?”

“They certainly heard you.” He scoffed.

“Coming from your room.” You snapped and Five laughed, hims chest still heaving and heaving, covered in a mist of sweat.

“Fuck them.” Five said, gently pulling your hips up, pulling the dick out of you, making you sigh a broken moan. “You are so sensitive!” He said between his teeth, as if he had never been satisfied with you.

You laughed, and shook your head, exposing your neck full of purple tick marks.

“You know…” Five took his index finger to the marks, delicately skirting them “you always look so much better when I mark you up.”

You pushed his shoulder slightly, rolling your eyes.

“Can we take a shower together?” Five nodded at you question. “ and…”

“And?”

“You know ...” yours cheeks became more flushed "Come cuddle."

Five laughed, his eyes tame now, an open smile and satisfied energy.

“We can.” he smiled and you gave him a passionate kiss on the lips.

[expectingtofly]

I was just stuck in traffic for an hour and a half (without reception to boot) so what better way to use my involuntary free time than to write a fic with dean, cas, and toddler jack in the same situation?

In hindsight, it made sense that in a life where nothing ever went to plan, an attempt at a relaxing Winchester beach vacation turned into an adventure called how long can you sit in traffic without losing your goddamn mind?

Slumping in his seat, Dean stared mournfully at the line of cars which seemed to stretch for miles into the distance. For an hour now they had sat on the freeway at a standstill, inching forward at odd intervals. Dean had turned Baby off fifteen minutes ago when even those slow forward crawls ceased.

Jack hummed in the backseat where he colored with a box of crayons. Cas tapped his fingers on his thighs, craning his neck to look behind and in front of them. No escape. Dean was pretty sure he was considering the merits of zapping all of them—car, luggage, and all—to their destination. Sure, the people around them would have plenty of questions about a car vanishing into thin air and Cas would be exhausted for three days, but it might be worth it.

Might save their sanity, at least. So far, they had cycled through staticky radio stations, played twenty questions three times over, eaten two cans of Pringles, argued about potential detours, and listened to several renditions of “Born This Way” sung at increasingly piercing high volume courtesy of the six year old in the backseat.

In all that time, they had moved forward about ten feet and Dean was starting to entertain thoughts about abandoning Baby on the asphalt and walking back home.

“I won’t abandon you,” he reassured her, stroking the steering wheel.

“What?” Cas asked.

“Uh. Nothing.” So now he was talking to inanimate objects. Great.

“Let’s play eye spy,” Cas suggested.

Dean gestured around them. Trees, weeds, parked cars, and the highway divider. “Not much to look at.”

“How about that game where you name an item for every letter of the alphabet? We can do celestial objects.”

“That’s not fair, you know all of them.”

“Well, we already did rock bands and you won that too easily.”

“Dad,” Jack complained. “I’m out of yellow.”

“It’s probably back there,” Cas said. “Maybe you dropped it.”

“There better not be a crayon melting back there.” Dean twisted around in his seat to check.

Jack sighed and threw down his crayons dramatically. “I’m hungry.”

Cas fished around in the snack bag. “I think we have some carrots left.”

“Hey, kid, this is pretty good.” Dean went to pick up the crayon drawing, but Jack threw his upper body over the paper.

“No! It’s not finished!”

“Alright, sorry. I’ll wait for the final product. Lookin’ good so far.”

“I’m drawing us,” Jack told him, reaching for another crayon while keeping a hand shielding the drawing.

“Remember I’m taller than him,” Dean said, nodding at Cas. Cas gave him a dirty look. “Just for accuracy.”

“My true form greatly towers over your human body,” Cas said haughtily.

“Aww, Cas, you tryin’ to flirt?”

Rolling his eyes, Cas handed back the bag of carrots to Jack. The mess in the backseat of papers and crayons—though stressful—gave Dean an idea.

“Hey, Jack, hand me some paper.” He took two papers and told Cas, “I’ll draw you and you draw me.”

Cas took a paper with a gleam in his eyes. “What does the winner get?”

“Whaddya mean winner? This is supposed to be just a fun thing.” That was a lie. They could, and did, turn everything into a competition. “Worst drawing has to pay for snacks at the next stop.”

“Easy,” Cas said, taking a green crayon from the box. “I could draw your every freckle from memory.”

“Stare enough to know what I look like,” Dean muttered, feeling his ears heat. He caught Cas reaching for the red crayon. “Hey!” Of course the fucker would draw him blushing.

Giving him a sly smile, Cas tucked himself against the opposite door to shield his drawing from him. “Just going for accuracy,”

“I wanna play too!” Jack said.

“Alright, best drawing from all three of us. Hope you brought your credit card, Jack.”

“Nope, ‘cause I’m gonna win!”

“No, you’re both going down.” Dean snatched up a stubby green crayon. “Go!”

Despite the lack of a time limit, furious scribbling followed. Dean liked to think he was a decent drawer, but using crayons—most of which were broken—sure made it difficult.

He set Cas in a sunny field with a fluffy cloud sky. Without yellow, the sun had to be green, but he thought the purple trenchcoat and blue tie he drew for Cas turned out pretty good. Add a few flowers, maybe a tree—fuck, that didn’t turn out so good. The important part was Cas, though. For good measure, he added some wings colored with every crayon in the box and an angel blade that he couldn’t get to look sharp enough with the blunt silver crayon, but gave the general idea.

Holding the drawing up, he couldn’t help smiling at it. It was Cas, alright. Down to the blue eyes, half smile, and sensible shoes.

“Done!” Jack announced.

“One second,” Cas said, eyebrows drawn up in concentration. After a few careful lines, he said, “Okay.” He clutched his drawing to his chest. “On the count of three.”

“One, two, three—” Dean flipped his drawing around at the same time as Cas and Jack.

And instantly burst out laughing.

“What?” Cas asked, offended.

“Dude.” Wiping tears from his eyes, Dean took the drawing from him. A stick figure man with a scribble of brown hair, lopsided green eyes, and dots which he guessed were his freckles. “I haven’t been this skinny in years. Wait a moment.” He frowned at the stick legs. “You gave me freaking bow legs?”

“Dean, this is…” Dean looked up to see Cas holding the drawing of himself. “This is really lovely.” He traced the wings. “It’s like you can see them.”

“Shit, it’s not that good.” Fucking hell, he was blushing again.

“Look at mine!” Jack said, waving his paper.

“Woah, kid, you outdid yourself,” Dean said, taking it from him. Three stick figures, each a bit taller than the next. Two with wings, one in a blocky shirt which looked suspiciously like flannel.

“Buddy, this is great.” He pointed at Cas’ figure, turning the paper so Cas could see. “Looks like he got your true form.” Animals and swirls, colors and shapes.

“That’s beautiful, Jack.” Cas pointed to the smallest stick figure with the biggest wings and smile. “I love how you drew yourself.”

“Do I win?” Jack asked.

Dean handed the drawings back. “Take a look at all of them, be our judge.”

Jack studied the three drawings seriously for several long seconds before announcing with a cheeky smile, “I win!”

“Seems rigged but okay,” Dean said.

Cas elbowed him. “You can pick out any snack you want when we find a place to stop,” he told Jack. A dangerous idea, but they might not even make it there. Their drawings would soon be outdated when they turned old and grey in their seats.

Bracing himself for the worst, Dean checked the line of cars again and was surprised to see movement up ahead.

“Hey!” He turned the car on. “Here we go, Baby, back on the road again!”

“Finally,” Cas sighed. Bouncing in his car seat, Jack cheered.

The line of cars thinned out as they picked up speed, finally making progress after… Dean checked the time. Two hours. At least the last hour had passed quickly with their drawing competition.

“I’m going to frame these,” Cas said, tucking the drawings into his bag. “I think they’d look nice in the living room.”

“Daddy?” Jack spoke up.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Cas asked, looking back at him.

Jack giggled and Dean smiled at him in the rearview mirror. Then Jack announced, “I have to pee.”

Dean stared at the road. Of course.

“Can you wait?” Cas asked, checking the GPS. "The next stop is… twenty minutes away.”

“I have to go now!”

Cas looked at Dean, and Dean sighed. “I’ll stop.” Turning on his turn signal to move into the shoulder, he told Jack, “Time to pee in the bushes, kiddo.”

Jack cheered and Dean shook his head, a laugh escaping him despite himself. Always an adventure.