#his dick can cure me in an instant

[gojoest]

agonizing over the fact that i can’t suck sae dry rn 💔

[nouearth]

when the snow settles.

clark kent x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. clark’s busy spoiling his sick boyfriend with cookies and cuddles—until things heat up when someone decides a kiss (and more) is the real cure for a cold.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅 & 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 6.0k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 corenswet!clark 〳 established relationship 〳 sick!reader 〳 christmas!au 〳 sexual content: top!clark, bottom!reader, belly-bulging, breeding, rimming (r!receiving), praising, body worship, clark can alter the temp of his body (and dick).

Snow fell softly outside the apartment, blanketing Metropolis in a serene hush that contrasted sharply with the sound of sniffling from the couch. Clark’s living room was cozy, aglow with the golden twinkle of Christmas lights strung up around the windows. The faint scent of pine mingled with the sweet aroma of gingerbread baking in the oven, though the stuffy haze of your cold dulled the sharpness of both.

You sat bundled in a mountain of blankets, a tissue box on one side and a half-empty mug of tea on the other. Despite the misery of a congested head and the scratchy soreness in your throat, you couldn’t help but watch Clark with a mix of amusement and adoration.

In the kitchen, he moved with a carefree confidence, humming along to Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas as it played softly on his phone. He had insisted on baking cookies for the evening, declaring it the perfect way to boost your holiday cheer. Not that you needed much help in that department—his reindeer antler headband, bouncing with every step he took, was doing most of the work.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his strong forearms, and his glasses had fogged up slightly from the warmth of the oven. Even with the goofy apron he wore—a red and green monstrosity with “Santa’s Favorite Helper” embroidered across the front—he looked unfairly attractive.

Clark glanced over his shoulder at you, a soft smile spreading across his face as his gaze met yours. “You okay over there?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Need more tea? Another blanket? A better boyfriend?”

You groaned theatrically, flopping back into the throw pillows. “What I need is for my head to stop feeling like it��s stuffed with cotton.”

And stones—your flair for drama only worsened the throbbing ache from the sudden movement.

Setting down a tray of freshly baked cookies, Clark wiped his hands on a dishtowel and made his way over to you. He knelt beside the couch, one hand reaching up to take the temperature from your forehead while the other rested lightly on your knee through the blanket.

His touch was warm, steady, grounding.

“Still running hot. Sorry you’re feeling this way,” he said sincerely, his brow furrowing just a little. “If I could punch a cold in the face, you know I would.”

You laughed, but it quickly dissolved into a coughing fit. Clark was at your side in an instant, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back until the worst of it passed. “It’s so unfair that you never get sick,” you rasped, your voice rough and strained. “You’re just… immune to everything. Meanwhile, I’m over here melting into a Christmas puddle.”

“Wow. This is the thanks I get for baking you cookies? My boyfriend wishing ill on me?” He chuckled, resting his elbows on the edge of the couch to stay level with your gaze. "If it makes you feel better, Krypto would probably be thrilled to drink you up if you were a puddle! Likes his water from the spring... spoiled dog."

His grin was boyish and a little smug, and you rolled your eyes at him, though the corners of your lips twitched upward.

“What I’m saying is… we could’ve been sick together,” you muttered, “But I can’t even enjoy them. Look here.” You picked up one of the gingerbread cookies Clark had carefully decorated earlier, the icing swirls and tiny candy buttons a testament to his painstaking attention to detail.

The cookie felt firm yet inviting in your hand, its edges slightly crisp and still warm from the oven. Breaking off a piece, you popped it into your mouth, hopeful that even through the fog of your cold, some of the sweetness might break through.

Instead, all you got was the texture—a faint crunch that dissolved into a soft crumble on your tongue. The spice you knew should be there, the warm bite of ginger and cinnamon that normally screamed Christmas, was muted to the point of nonexistence.

You frowned, swallowing the flavorless bite with effort. A sharp, scratchy sting flared in your throat, the dry irritation making each swallow feel more uncomfortable than the last. The lack of taste was almost offensive, a cruel reminder of how thoroughly your cold had robbed you of simple joys.

Clark’s eyes flicked over to you, catching your expression as you set the rest of the cookie down with a defeated sigh. “Nothing?” he asked, his voice tinged with sympathy.

“Absolutely nothing,” you muttered, your voice still scratchy. “I might as well be eating cardboard.”

Clark chuckled softly, getting up on his feet to sit beside you. “Guess that means more for me, huh?” He reached for a cookie, his teasing grin faltering when he saw your pout, but his craving persisted nonetheless. “Hey, don’t worry,” he added, nudging your shoulder gently. “Once you’re better, I’ll bake you a whole new batch. Extra ginger, just the way you like it.”

“Yeah…”

Clark bit into a gingerbread cookie with gusto, clearly enjoying his own handiwork as he snuggled beside you on the couch.

“Mmm,” he hummed dramatically, his eyes widening as he made a show of savoring the bite. “Oh, wow. These might be my best yet. Sweet, spicy, perfectly baked—chef’s kiss.” He gestured extravagantly, grinning like he’d just won a baking competition.

“Not saying these aren’t good, but I’m pretty sure the last time you made cookies, Krypto got more excited than I did."

You were about to roll your eyes at his antics when you noticed a speck of icing clinging to the corner of his mouth and a small crumb nestled in the dimple of his cheek. It was such a ridiculously human detail—charming in its imperfection—that you felt a sudden pang of affection bloom in your chest.

“Here,” you said, laughing softly as you reached up and brushed the crumb away with your thumb, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. His skin was warm, and the bashful smile that tugged at his lips made your stomach flip.

“Didn't stop you from cleaning out the cookie tray...” he murmured, his cheeks pinking slightly as he quickly licked the icing from the corner of his mouth, completely oblivious to how endearing he looked. "Thanks."

You shook your head, biting back a grin. “You’re a mess,” you teased, but your voice was far softer than usual, betraying just how much the sight of him—unpolished, sweet, and so effortlessly Clark—had utterly disarmed you.

Clark’s smile softened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. His lips lingered for a moment, warm and impossibly tender against your fevered skin. When he pulled back, he looked at you with that impossibly earnest expression that always made your heart twist.

“It’s nice, though, isn’t it?” Clark murmured, his voice soft and warm, like the glow of the Christmas lights reflecting off his glasses. “The cookies, the Christmas specials, the decorations… being snowed in together. Like a Hallmark movie, but… not terrible?”

You could see the flicker of nostalgia in his eyes as he spoke, his tone carrying a quiet sincerity that made your heart ache in the best way. The soft crackle of the digital fireplace playing on the TV and the distant hum of holiday music only made the moment feel more intimate, as if the world outside had disappeared entirely.

A warmth spread through your chest that had nothing to do with fever. Clark had this infuriating knack for making everything—even being sick—feel like a kind of blessing, as long as he was beside you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, your voice rough but laced with affection. “Talking like I’ve got only two months left to live…” You tried for sarcasm, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Clark’s grin softened into something more tender, his gaze unwavering as he watched you. “Yeah,” you admitted quietly, letting out a small sigh. “It’s nice. Really nice.”

The weight of your words hung between you for a moment, and the corners of Clark’s mouth twitched upward again, this time into a bashful little smile. He didn’t say anything more—he didn’t need to.

Instead, his hand found yours beneath the blanket, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles, as if to say everything he didn’t put into words.

You knew he was the strongest man in the world, but it was these quiet moments—his sincerity, his kindness—that made you feel like you were the one holding something unbreakable.

Clark squeezed your hand gently, his expression melting into something tender and a little uncertain. He studied you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked softly. “I mean, really okay? I know I’m supposed to cheer you up, but I don’t want to push too much—especially if you’re not feeling great.”

You leaned your head back against the cushions, exhaling a soft sigh. “Clark, I’m fine,” you said, your voice still raspy but carrying enough exasperation to make your point. “I mean, yeah, I feel like I’ve been hit by a snowplow, but it’s not like I’m about to collapse.” Your lips quirked into a small, teasing smile as you tilted your head toward him.

“Besides, you’ve already gone above and beyond. The cookies, the mistletoe, the cozy speeches… you’re basically an elf on the shelf who magically transformed into the perfect boyfriend overnight.” You reached over, your other hand settling on Clark's broad shoulders as you gently rubbed them, a silent gesture of appreciation.

Clark chuckled at that, but the faint blush on his cheeks deepened. “Well, I don’t know about perfect…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck in that adorably bashful way that made your chest tighten.

“Perfect,” you repeated, a little firmer this time, giving his hand a squeeze. “Even in that ridiculous apron.”

He let out a breathy laugh, and the sound sent a flutter through you. The way his smile lingered—soft and boyish, but edged with a quiet intensity—made your stomach flip. His thumb absentmindedly traced circles on the back of your hand, and though the gesture was small, it felt impossibly intimate.

“Clark,” you mumbled, leaning in slightly, the hoarseness of your voice making his name sound heavier, more charged. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a low murmur. His eyes flicked to your lips before darting away, a faint flicker of hesitation passing over his features. “You’re sick. I don’t want to… you know… make it worse.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you, though it quickly turned into a cough. Clark’s expression immediately shifted to concern, but you waved him off, catching your breath as you gave him a lopsided grin.

“Clark, I’m not made of glass. And for the record,” you added, your voice softening as you leaned in just a little closer with the support of your elbows, “I think kissing you would make me feel a whole lot better. Best medicine and all that.”

His ears turned an impressive shade of red, and he ducked his head slightly, his grin both shy and disbelieving. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

You shrugged, your grin turning sly. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“I’m still here,” he echoed softly, his voice carrying a weight of affection that made your heart ache in the best way. His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink, the soft glow of the Christmas lights casting him in a golden halo.

Slowly, tentatively, Clark leaned in, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw. “If you wake up tomorrow feeling worse,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in the barest of touches, “I’m blaming you.”

“Noted,” you whispered back, your breath mingling with his as you tilted your head to close the distance between you.

Strange. You hadn’t noticed the scent of cinnamon when he first brought out the cookies, but now, with your lips inching closer to his—like two cookies spreading and melding into one—you could almost convince yourself you were cured. Almost, if not for the stubborn stuffiness in your nose.

The kiss was gentle at first, as if Clark was afraid you might shatter beneath him. But when you let out a soft, contented sigh and threaded your fingers through his hair, his restraint wavered.

He deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a warmth and intensity that made you forget all about the congestion and sore throat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his other hand pressed lightly against your waist beneath the blanket.

You tugged him closer still, your lips parting to let him in as the heat between you began to build. Clark’s kisses were like him—steady, powerful, and infused with an overwhelming tenderness that made your head spin. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you were breathing harder, the warmth of the moment erasing the chill of the winter night.

“Feeling better yet?” he asked, his voice teasing, though the worry flickering in his eyes betrayed him. It wasn’t just concern over your condition—it was something deeper, a quiet struggle to hold himself back. Not when you looked so effortlessly beautiful, your disheveled state a product of his presence.

“Better,” your voice came out in a whisper, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm before traveling around his torso to untie his apron. “But I think I might need a few more rounds just to be sure.”

Clark let out a soft laugh as you tossed the fabric to the floor, his thumb grazing your cheek in a tender gesture. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, but this time the words were thick with affection. His teeth caught his lower lip as your hands lingered at the waistband of his pajama pants, your intentions unmistakable with the gentle tug at his drawstring.

“You sure?” he asked sincerely, large, calloused hands pressing all over your body, but mainly your bare stomach, where he began mapping out heat zones over the plane.You could feel the strength of his abdomen beneath the thickness of his sweater as your hand gently traced his body in admiration. Biting your lip, you reached up to remove his glasses and nodded.

"If you don’t mind taking care of me tonight.”

There was something about the way Clark watched you during moments like these. You couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of his touch or the intensity of his gaze that made you feel so small, so vulnerable. Either way, you savored it—the sensation of being his entire focus, the apple of his eye, and nothing else.

Your stomach sank when he slid his third finger inside of your tight hole, joining his twinned index and middle.

“I can never get tired of this…” you mumbled, unbuttoning the rest of your pajama top when the pressure below heightened your body temperature.

“I’ll say,” Clark hummed, a growing mass forming large in his pants as he was knelt on the bed, gently working you open. The sound of his lubed fingers twisting and curling deep inside of you made his cock jolt, your cheeks reddening as a result of his attraction.

Clark had always been patient, but when it came to having you submit under his touch, he seemed to relish every second. His hands moved slowly, pressing and kneading at just the right spots, his fingers curling deep and slow to the rhythm of your heart while his other hand rubbed small and smooth circles over your stomach.

It wasn’t just about easing your tension—it was about watching you. The way your breath hitched when he found a tender spot, the subtle flutter of your lashes, the way your lips parted with a moan when he spread his three digits—it all captivated him.

He couldn’t help but grin softly as his hands worked their magic, savoring the reactions that only he could coax from you. For Clark, the real reward wasn’t just in soothing your aches—it was in seeing your face completely melt under his touch, your body reacting wantonly because you craved for more.

And with that, Clark went on to give you more. Knowing how sensitive your body’s condition was in the moment, he carefully pushed your legs up, his large hands stabilizing you by the thighs, and replaced the fill of his fingers with his inquisitive tongue.

Like his fingers, he started out slow and deliberate, tracing the swollen ring of muscle to sample the fresh layer of artificially-flavored lube dripping out of your hole. He licked you with a casual ease, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

“Smells like coconut,” you sniffled softly as he lifted his head to press a few kisses to your inner thighs. The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin, but your attention caught on the sticky sheen smeared across his cheek, a glistening trace of slick that made your cock twitch.

“Close… coconut cream pie. More vanilla than I was expecting, if I had to be honest…”

A tender smile curved your lips as your fingers found their way into his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingertips. You began to pet his head gingerly, your touch slow and soothing, grounding both of you in the moment.

“Love you.”

Clark leaned into your hand instinctively, a low hum of contentment rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut briefly, the tension in his broad shoulders melting under your touch, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to fade away entirely.

“I love you too, (M/N).”

His gaze flicked to yours, a sudden spark of mischief between the blinds of his eyelashes, before he paused for a moment, letting the anticipation build, and kept a watchful eye on you while he slowly pushed out his spit to drizzle it over your wet hole.

Then, with agonizing precision, he pushed the remainder of the saliva into the center of your opening, the wet, methodical slck of the motion sending a jolt of heat down your spine.

“Fuck…” Your fingers curled into his hair until they were grasping, pushing him and his tongue deeper into you while simultaneously rutting your hips against him.

Clark was a hungry man. He made sure to clean up any traces of his spit and lube with that thick tongue of his, slurping the remnants before adding onto it again with a generous amount of spit. Every time you thought the trail of saliva was dripping dangerously close to the bed sheets, Clark’s intuition was strong enough to blindly guide him to the leak, deftly licking it back up and kissing your flesh in passing.

He would never waste a single drop.

A quiet, satisfied moan escaped him, low and drawn out, as if savoring the sweetness of the lube and your flesh was a private indulgence. His eyes never left yours as his nose rubbed at your taint in midst of his devouring, The smile that curled at his lips—glazed and glistening—was a challenge, a silent dare that made the air between you feel heavy.

Heavier, when he found the right rhythm of flicking his tongue to make your body writhe under him.

“Clark, please…” you whined, one hand massaging your loose balls while the other toyed with your nipple, pleasuring yourself not only to the sight of Clark indulging in the warmth and taste of your flesh, but also his naked torso.

His chest rose and fell steadily, each inhale making his broad shoulders flex, the faint sheen of sweat catching the light. The planes of his abdomen looked carved, every ridge and dip inviting your eyes to linger, compelling your cock to leak out of sheer astonishment.

His arms were just as mesmerizing—thick and powerful, with veins running along his forearms that seemed to pulse with quiet authority, especially so when he’d alternative between working your hole open with his fingers and tongue again.

The strength they promised wasn’t just physical but protective. Those arms of his were built to shield and hold you.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze lingered, watching as you panted breathlessly, your chest rising and falling, desperate for him to finish what he had so teasingly begun. The tension hung there, thick and electric, like the moment itself had slowed just for the two of you.

He took off the remainder of his clothes before sprawling himself over you, his broad frame hovering just above yours while you seized the opportunity to thank him of his service. Between gentle kisses that Clark needed to get out of his system before he would lose himself in your body, you generously applied a glorious amount of lube on his large cock, though not letting Clark’s kisses answer to nobody.

His muscles pressed gently against you, the solid strength of his chest rising and falling with each breath when you took a couple of moments to thoroughly layer him in slick—to silently appreciate him for his efforts in lifting your spirits throughout the week with firm strokes.

The weight of his cock in your hands was satisfying, hefty enough to make you pause and marvel at the sheer size of it. You couldn’t get used to it, nor did you want to.

“You comfortable? Need more pillows? Tell me if your body starts hurting, okay?” Clark asked, suppressing his moans by showering your neck and face in small, lithe kisses.

His hands roamed your body at their own free-will before they began fixating on your arms, where your goosebumps were discernible. His brows furrowed in concern.

“Little cold…” One arm looped around to caress Clark by the nape, holding his forehead flushed to your own, while your other hand continued to stroke him between your collective hip grinds. You shivered again, despite being nestled so close to him, the draft still biting at your skin.

“Give me a moment,” he murmured softly, the heat of his breath brushing your ear.

You looked up at him, puzzled, but before you could ask what he meant, Clark pulled back just slightly, enough to give himself space to move. Without a word, he began to shift, his body warm and powerful as he adjusted his position. A flicker of surprise passed through you when you saw the subtle concentration on his face, but before you could ask again, you felt it when he pressed himself on top of you again, lowering his hips.

Clark’s body temperature seemed to rise—slowly, but steadily, until you could feel a gentle heat radiating off him. It was as if he was adjusting his own internal warmth, shifting it just for you. Your eyes widened in disbelief, but the shiver running through your body eased, the cold gradually melting away as his warmth enveloped you.

“You should be good now,” he said, his voice low and calm while he pulled you back into his arms, his skin now perfectly heated against yours.

You nestled against him again, finally able to relax as the cold left you entirely. “Not even going to ask,” you graced him with a kiss, reaching between your pelvis and his to adjust his cock against your hole and nodded. “I’m good to go.”

“Love you so much…” He took you by the jaw and slotted his lips into yours once more, grounding the wavering of your breath with his protection before he pushed his hips forth.

“It’s so… big, C-Clark—“ you groaned, clenching your eyes shut through the bittersweet tension of his large cock opening you up.

Clark whispered several I know’s over your lips, a strong effort in placating the pain surging beneath you, while taking a few pauses for you to catch your breath, for Clark to catch his because—you were so tight.

"You're so tight..." Clark seemed to have admitted in a whisper without realizing.

You felt yourself swell within seconds, the crown of your insides clenching him and pushing him out all at the same time, but Clark remained resilient, pushing, and pushing, allowing you to feel the slow, deliberate pressure inside of you, until he was finally deeply rooted inside of you to the hilt, earning himself a deep guttural groan from you as a reward.

“You feel so good, baby. So, so good. Taking me so well…” He peppered your whimpers with soft kisses, his words soothing you as his boyish smile remained, warm and comforting, easing you with each gentle touch and praise.

“You’re so warm too…” you muttered into the palm of his hand, kissing him at the calloused skin before you returned back to his plush lips.

Your breath caught in your throat as you shifted, the feeling of being filled growing deeper, fuller with every inch of Clark’s large cock moving inside of you. Clark’s large palm rested on your stomach, caressing over the bulge that seemed to move in conjunction with his slow, methodical thrusts.

He had never mentioned it, but you knew it was a sight that he secretly loved. Clark's eyes softened with admiration as he watched, his gaze lingering on the subtle curve of your stomach. It was unmistakable, the way it had begun to gently bulge with every rut of his hips, becoming more prominent depending on the strength, the fullness a natural sign of the way your body had been affected by what you’d taken.

And what you had taken was Clark’s love and devotion to you—his thick cock making you gape and swell from beneath.

It wasn’t easy, not by any means, but there was an undeniable pull in watching your stomach swell from his cock—an almost desperate craving for the mixture of pain and pleasure, for the way it made your body react even though your mind wavered between wanting to resist and wanting to surrender completely.

He couldn’t help but marvel at it, his fingertips lightly grazing the curve, tracing its outline with a reverent touch. The way your body had responded to him, the way it molded to the shape of the intimate moment, filled him with a quiet awe. He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your skin, his voice low and hushed. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, a hint of wonder in his tone, as if he couldn’t quite believe the sight before him.

Clark was never one to boast, but in this moment, the glint in his eyes spoke volumes. He’d never been so proud of having someone like you—someone so determined—take all of his girth with such unwavering focus despite the tears in your eyes. Happy tears, to which he’d only create more of, when he gently pressed on the bulge in your stomach and sandwiched his cock within your insides, plunging himself deep inside of you until the only sounds that came out of your throat were guttural.

“C-Clark—oh, god…” your cock was dripping in pre-cum, throbbing to the weight of his cock hollowing you out as he sped up his hips and pushed you deeper into the bed on instinct. You held onto his muscular shoulders as he clutched onto your waist and rocked you back and forth along to his deep thrusts.

“God, I’m so deep inside of you. Is this okay, baby? Is it okay that I’m making love to you like this? I’m being selfish, aren’t I?”

“No-please! I l-love it so much, Clark. Fuck. Keep fucking me like that… wouldn’t want anything more—”

“Like this? You like how I’m so deep inside of you to the point where your tummy’s swelling? So… good. You look so good for me…”

His forehead connected to yours again, panting over your mouth and taking a moment to marvel over how he had rendered you speechless before he could muster up the energy to kiss you again, to draw out another sound from you with his tongue.

The warmth of his mouth was almost feverish, his breath mingling with yours in a tangled, wet dance. Each movement was smooth and sensual, your tongues exploring, tasting, tracing the contours of each other’s mouths with growing eagerness. The wetness of it—the gentle press of his lips, the slick glide of your tongues—made the kiss feel all the more intoxicating, as if every flick and sweep brought you deeper into him.

Clark’s body temperature only seemed to have gotten warmer, affecting you from the inside and out as his cock was synchronous.

You could feel Clark’s dick heat you up from the inside, seemingly softening your guts to make the ease of fully wrecking you all the more easier. With each kiss, praise, and thrust, your body melted further, feeling as soft and pliable as butter left out in the warmth. The tension in your muscles faded, replaced by a liquid sensation that spread through you, leaving you entirely at ease and whimpering in his hot embrace.

The faint sheen of sweat gave him an undeniable rawness, a physicality that made your heart race. You were mesmerized by the way it clung to him, the way the droplets caught the light before sliding slowly down his torso.

Each movement he made only seemed to draw you in more, the heat radiating from his body intensifying the pull you felt. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, infatuated not just by his strength, but by the way he looked so alive, so real—like the sweat was proof of his effort, his focus, and the raw intensity of how he was making love to you and that tantalizing hole of yours.

“You’re fucking me so good, Clark. I could come like this, baby—just like this…”

“And when you make a mess—not if, but when—I’ll treat you like the prince you are. I’ll clean you up with my mouth, let you watch me lick every drop away with my tongue, and then I’ll kiss you, giving you a taste of your love for me.”

His skin, damp with the effort of his keen need to wreck you, left a trail of warmth and moisture as he pounded you, a strong, animalistic friction that made every touch feel more intimate and passionate, that made the current position of him mounting you and bending your knees till they touched your chest despite your condition well worthwhile and all the more rewarding.

It was a sound that matched the intensity of the connection between you both—no words needed, just the symphony of his sweaty skin meeting yours, and his cock hollowing you out until you two had made a permanent imprint on the mattress.

Clark’s breath hitched as he watched you, his eyes soft and filled with admiration contrasting with his hardened thrusts. “You look so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. “Just… so perfect.”

His hand moved to your stomach again, evidently in love with the way you swelled from his cock, the weight of the moment sinking in with the aid of the bed creaking, and Clark’s sweaty skin slapping against you.

Every word he spoke, every gentle press of his lips, seemed to soften you, coaxing out of the cold that had been restricting you. It was as though you were being molded by his touch, the heat of his affection spreading through your veins, leaving you pliant, relaxed, and willing to give yourself entirely to him.

All sensation coursing through you was a tangled mess of pleasure and overwhelming intensity. Your body was on the verge of unraveling with every deep thrust of Clark’s. You could feel him swell, veins throbbing inside of you, his balls twitching as he was nearing his high just as you were.

Your eyes fluttered closed, the edges of your vision blurring the harder he pounded into you like an animal, like he was beating away at your cold, and you could feel yourself slipping into a blissful madness.

It was almost too much, yet it felt like the most real thing you’d ever known. Your body trembled from the weight of his body on you, from the girth that Clark was destroying you open with. Every muscle was tight with anticipation, yet you managed to hold onto a smile, the corners of your lips twitching despite the storm raging inside you, your cock throbbing and leaking in overdrive in warning.

“C-Clark..!“

Your hands instinctively found their way around Clark's neck, pulling him closer as if to anchor yourself in the moment. The kiss you pressed against his lips was desperate, full of need and grounding, a silent plea for him to steady you in the chaos as your balls tightened up into your core.

With each breathless press of your mouth to his, you found a sliver of control, a tether to the reality of his presence, even as the pleasure threatened to send you into pure blissful madness.

“I know—me too—“

Your smile lingered, your mind teetered on the edge, savoring every second, every touch, every thrust, and every heartbeat that connected you both, until the very moment where Clark’s name slipped from your lips in a breathless gasp.

“Clark—“

The tension had reached its peak, and when it finally broke, it was like a wave crashing over you, overwhelming and all-consuming. You came in a shared, fervent release. All muscles in your body was taut with desire, the culmination of your love for him unraveling in the form of thick white ropes shooting out of your cock, decorating your bulging stomach with layers upon layers, some splattering onto Clark’s body from the sheer amount of power and arousal.

Clark’s grip on you tightened, his body shuddering against yours as he gave into the same release, his breath ragged in the wake of it. His name left your lips in a soft, trembling sigh as he spilled his warm, thick seed deep inside of your raw hole. He left you breathless, thick, and steady, flooding you in ropes that seemed to never end. It was a powerful, consuming feeling, filling you completely, each pulse of his cock deep and unwavering, decorating your insides with a thickness that left you in awe of how much he had to give, like his body had held nothing back.

Your bodies moved together in those final moments, each thrust and touch sending shock waves through your system as Clark rode out his orgasm. You could feel every inch of him, raw and exposed. The warmth spread through you with each movement, the thick fluid of his cum filling you to the brim, a steady stream that didn’t seem to have an end leaking out of you that would surely have your flesh glued together with his.

Nothing else listed but the two of you—completely undone, unraveling together and leaving behind nothing but the sweet, tender echo of your love for each other.

The room was still, save for your breathing, as Clark’s forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath, tangled together in the beautiful, but sweaty aftermath.

“Are you… feeling better?”

His fingers traced along your skin, over the mess that you made of your stomach to let the sticky substance seep into his own palm, while he caught the remainder of his breath in the crook of your neck, fully collapsing on top of you.

“I…” You groaned, the lingering sensation of pleasure making it hard to find words. But despite the exhaustion, a sly smile tugged at your lips.

You rubbed his broad back in soothing circles, whispering in his ear, “I think I might need another prescription, Doctor.” Your voice was breathless, a mischievous glint in your eyes as the desire still simmered beneath the surface.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[gurggggleburgle]

I would like to make the joke that this winter you could sacriligously call Shen Yuan a Jesus figure who deserves a spot on your mantle and tree.

And why would we say that?

1) Father Son and Holy Spirit

Okay so we acknowledge the very real fact that Airplane is God of this world and what is the system if not an abstraction of the holy spirit? And I know what you're thinking how does this apply to Shen Yuan? What is his transmigration into Shen Qingqiu if not a Virgin Birth into a son of Airplane's writing who in PIDW is the narrative justification for all of Binghe's hate and also the eventual release of Binghe's trauma and corruption. Both a sacrificial lamb if you will.

2) resurrection

OK so while his deaths (for the sake of comedy accept big dick death) are all for binghe's sake in the end could one not argue strongly that these deaths carry the symbolic nature of self sacrifice, revival, and of course stigmata. The first death is of course the one that starts the novel where the humble Shen Yuan asks for absolution for the characters and the world of PIDW with his astute words of "dumbfuck novel dumbfuck author" in which he notes the fault of Lord Father Airplane and is born so he may die at the hands of his disciple who will ultimately betray them. His second death comes 3 years later and is the process once makes a statement of absolution towards his betrayer and to once again spare his fellow eleven other peak lords and and binghe who you can read as the 12 apostles. He then dies again in order to save both the world and in the process and absolve guilt and sin in the name of love and forgiveness.

3) stigmata

Much like our favorite anime protagonist from Saint Young Men our boy Shen Yuan experiences multiple cases of gaining stigmata. Stigmata in this instant referring to multiple injuries that Shen Yuan receives in one particular hand and visually in the animated adaptation appears to be the palm. Shen Yuan's hand which was used to read the sacred PIDW text and give head pats to his disciples was injured in saving Luo Binghe multiple times. In first gaining a deadly poison that seals his fate, then in being infected with a disease that ravaged the meek and innocent, third he gets plant spores that need to he repeatedly burned out of his flesh. These stigmata are symbols of his devotion and faith.

4) kindness to snakes and the less fortunate

In showing kindness to a snake Shen Yuan is able to restore Zhuzhi-Lang back to a more desired state much like the way Jesus cured disease. His efforts also resorted in saving the life of Liu Qingge who is restored much like Lazurus. These miracles act as proof of Shizun’s miracles. Proof of his acts as savior

5) god why have you forsaken me

Multiple times throughout the novel Shen Qingqiu can be seen raging against the system as well as Airplane which as we've discussed are both aspects of God. Jesus himself raged against God when forced to confront his own death and spoke of feeling betrayed and forsaken. The same can be said for the way Shen Yuan feels towards both his fate or and for the state of PIDW and Airplanes shitty writing.

6) throwing the money lenders from the temple

Honestly this is just an excuse to make a joke about Huan Hua palace and killing the old palace master.

7) knowing his own betrayal

A large element is that Judas's betrayal is not a surprise to Jesus. It is an inevitability he sees coming in much the same way that Shen Yuan sees Luo Binghe trying to kill him in revenge coming. There is an acceptance of an inevitable betrayal that both figures share

7) Gay

Much like Jesus our boy is gay and problematic

[kamiversee]

even though I have mixed feelings about gojo, I def NEED some type of bonus chapter or oneshot with him being overstimulated and whimpering n stuff. I’ve been deadass fantasizing about that for the past hour (prolly cuz it’s late rn) BUT THAT WOULD CURE ALL MY PROBLEMS

this just made me realize how much help I might need because I don’t think this is normal 😃

(Choso could be an option but I feel like it would fit gojo more 🧎‍♀️)

He'd be so whiny for the reader too considering how down horrendous he is. So, because I'm in heat, here's a lil blurb off the top of my head ^.^

(wc; 0.6k)

Gojo would beg you to touch him and just imagine him on his knees in front of you, all teary-eyed and pouty-- begging you to give him some sort of attention-, any sort of attention so that the aching of his cock can die down. He was recently jerking off to you but that didn't help him much, he needed you physically and he needed you now.

He likely called you to come over and you heard it in his voice how horny he was for you. Telling you things over the phone like, "You don't have to do anything, sweetheart. Jus' stand there 'nd I promise I'll cum quick..."

Of course, his words got you all riled up so you made your way to him as quickly as possible, having him open the door of his apartment for you and snatch you inside in an instant. Gojo dragged you to his room and had to just sit prettily at the edge of his bed, dropping to his knees and whining for you to touch him-- even though he promised you didn't have to do anything.

One thing quickly led to another and Gojo was pussydrunk in a matter of minutes. Repositioned to where you were on top of him, the sensual and tortuous slow rock of your hips had him panting so heavily.

"F-Faster, fuuuck, p-please? Fuck me faster-," Gojo tried to beg as much as he could but he was beginning to moan again as you upped the movement of your hips and he straight up whimpers when your cunt squeezes around him juust right-- his hips suddenly bucking up into you for more.

He would be so pretty all fucked out too; head tossed back, Adam's apple bobbing with each deep groan that leaves his throat in reaction to your walls sucking in his lengthy cock so perfectly. Fluffy white locks of hair would be in such a mess, sweat dripping down his chiseled chest, and wet lips parted with moans leaving him.

Gojo would be enamored by every inch of you but most importantly your pussy and the way it slicked and slid up and down his length.

He'd be fucking into you for such a long time without even realizing it, heavy balls slapping against your skin as the tip of his cock just mushes into that sweet spot inside of you. Then your moans are what would have him all whiney.

It was like he was unintentionally competing to see who would be louder. Gojo would moan your name out like it's the only thing he knew how to say, so lost in the feeling of you that he's coming inside you before he even realizes, filling you up with his cum and his eyes crossing at the feeling of you getting tighter and tighter around him.

"More," You'd say to him, drunk off his cock and blinded by lust and pleasure.

To which he'd happily oblige and flip the two of you over just to fuck his dick down into your cunt at a merciless pace. Gojo would shove his lengthy inches into you as roughly as possible as if to make sure his cum stayed inside you.

Your arms would find solace around his neck and you'd tug him closer, moaning right next to his ear and making his cock throb inside you.

"You feel s'good," Gojo would groan in response, "S-So fuckin' good..." his voice airy and words leaving him in pants, "Wanna' fuck you all night, sweetheart. Can I? P-Please?" He'd beg.

He's so damn cute like this that of course you'd tell him yes, leading to his thrusts growing harsher and his bed creaking at how feral and sloppy his pace becomes.

And just as your pussy squeezes around him tighter than before, Gojo would wake up from his slumber and realize that everything he just experienced was nothing more than a wet dream :3

sorry not sorry for this :P

[talxns]

omg omg omg pLEASE give us more wolfbat brudick ramblings that ask had me like 👀🥵😮‍💨

with pleasure! a lot of these ideas were shared between me and @ohcherry-art !! they are responsible for this idea in the first place ❤️🍒

shameless mindless brudick (wolfbat)-monsterfucking rambles under the cut

If WolfBat Bruce goes on a rampage, countless lives could be lost, and if, no, when, they figure out how to turn Bruce back to normal, the man would be devastated to learn of his destruction.

So the beast must be contained, or distracted, or subdued with the least amount of damage to others and Bruce himself as possible.

It’s really not a coincidence that Dick is the first to be there, to stake his responsibility over Bruce. If anyone could take care of Bruce in this state, it must be him.

When Dick hits the scene the Beast is on him in an instant. He would have smelled him coming, and raced to meet him. He’d chase him around, Dick being too quick and slippery to be caught unless he wanted to be. Dick would need to lead him somewhere more private, somewhere that Bruce couldn’t hurt anyone if they got too close.

He twists and twirls out of Bruce’s reach, and despite Bruce’s growls of frustration at always being a second too late, his tail is wagging back and forth.

Dick can’t keep jumping around forever, or the Beast might get tired of this impossible game and break away to wreak havoc. He finally approaches Bruce when he’s panting harder (as a wolf beast Bruce isn’t expending his energy nearly as efficiently as he usually would), Dick’s own hard breathing something strained. He calls to him softly, in question, and Bruce’s pointed ears twitch forward, head tilting slightly in recognition of the sound, but there is little understanding behind his fiery eyes.

Dick continues his slow approach and doesn’t flinch when Bruce takes the opportunity to lunge forward, snarling, teeth bared, but Dick isn’t afraid. The wolf nearly bowls him over, grabbing at his torso and pulling him against his muzzle to sniff him fervently, as if confirming that it truly is Dick (his sense of smell is much better than his vision!)

And then Bruce is sniffing him… everywhere. Manhandling to snuff around his hair, his neck, grinding his incisors against the heady skin, tongue coming out to lave wet streaks against his exposed jaw. And the air in the abandoned building Dick has led them to starts feeling heavier and stuffier, Bruce’s own scent so strong in this beastly form.

As the wolf is trying to tear Nightwing’s suit off his neck with his teeth, Dick realizes a better way to keep Bruce distracted until the others can find a cure or solution.

Dick would unlatch his own suit before the Beast starts trying to rip through it with his claws. Bruce would know how to take it off him with his eyes closed, but the wolfbat can’t seem to think past his need.

The instant the suit is off Dick’s neck, Bruce is shoving his nose right against his mark, huffing at it like he’s surprised to find it there at all. Dick would coo to him, petting his thick fur, like that’s right big boy, all yours.

It’s shocking how fast Bruce ends up tearing the rest of Dick’s suit off (Dick’s going to make him replace it if he lives through this), and Bruce easily rips the last tatters off his own hulking body.

To a witness, it would look too savage to survive and to be fair, if Dick didn’t have near meta levels of durability, he might not be able to.

Bruce is big. But wolfbat bruce is enormous.

He towers over Dick, one of his monstrous hands is the size of Dick’s torso, and one of his thighs is thicker than Dick’s waist.

He’s heavy, if he put his full weight on a regular person it would easily crack open a rib cage.

Wolf!Bruce completely covers Dick when he’s pinned him, and Dick isn’t afraid. Not even when Bruce’s hot and dripping breath fans across his shoulder, sharp teeth rubbing across his skin, as the impossibly large creature mounts him.

Dick is so devoted to Bruce that he has a sick sense of duty and pride in that he’s the one doing this for Bruce. He spreads his thighs for him. He invites him in.

Bruce can’t understand the words, but he understands through Dick’s tone of voice. He obeys when he hears Dick warn him, easy, easy… and reacts to every cry and whimper that leaves Dick’s lips, ears twitching.

And in the slow moments, when they are face to face, Dick can see Bruce in those eyes, lust tempered by the intimacy, and holds him close, as Bruce rumbles out what Dick knows are mournful apologies for his lack of control, like he knows deep down that he’s doing something not exactly right, and Dick would reassure him with his moans and caresses and praise (such a good mate), a hand on his muzzle, holding eye contact, telling him with his eyes that he knows Bruce is in there and that he loves him

Wolf!Bruce can’t help but be destructive, and Dick is left with many bruises and shallow bite marks, which are always lapped at when Bruce has a more cognizant moment. Bruce gets a fair share of his fur ripped out from strong clutching hands.

And yes, they do it in all manners of ways, because the beast is insatiable and wants Dick on his back, on his stomach, lying against him, under him, on him, just any new angle where he can nest in deep. (Bruce’s prefered position seems to be any one where he can drag his tongue up Dick’s throat when he knots him) And he delights in licking up Dick’s own release when it clings to his flesh.

Ugh and Bruce’s endurance would be the ultimate test of Dick’s limits. Dick would need to make Bruce pull out completely every couple rounds (much to Bruce’s growling protests) just to release some of the pressure inside of him. And somehow Bruce is just observant enough to notice that Dick stops ejaculating at some point, despite his back arching and shaking and twitching, but doesn’t understand why, so he tries licking at Dick’s member just to get kicked in the fat head because Dick can’t take the overstimulation.

And they make quite a mess, Dick is panting and flushed and sticky after every round, especially along his thighs, stomach, and backside, but Bruce obediently laps it up, and wraps himself around his shivering mate to keep him warm and protected in his bulk. snarling at anyone who would dare try to approach

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Best Cure for Boredom

kai parker x reader

summary: you text your boyfriend, bored in class and looking for entertainment, but instead catch him in one of his needier moments. after two seconds of debate, you decide you have nothing better to do than to help him. (witch!reader)

tags: phone sex, sexting / sexting in (college) class, male masturbation, cum on camera lens

word count: ~2.2k

You’re sitting in the back of your class, bored out of your fucking mind. Professor Saltzman has been going on about the history of magic for three class periods now, and he doesn’t even seem close to done. One downside to being a witch: you already know this, but have to pretend you don’t. Granted, half your class is composed of vampires and witches, including your professor - an ex-vamp, but as for the half that doesn’t know, you really don’t need them to find out.

But… the thought of continuously taking notes on something you’ve been taught since childhood is killing you, so you opt to look like one of those students who never pay attention in class. Sighing, you push your notebook away and pull out your phone. 

Y/N: plz help i am so bored

Kai: are you okay??

His instant reply makes you smile.

Y/N: yeah i’m okay, i just hate ric’s class soooooo much

Kai: when are you out?

Y/N: not for another twenty minutes

Kai: fuck, i miss you

Y/N: i miss you, too

Kai: and the bed is cold without you

Y/N: have you not gotten up yet??

Kai: ….no

Kai: i’ve been waiting for you to get back

Y/N: baby, i have classes all day. i won’t be back until four

Kai: mmmmmmmm no!

Y/N: i’m sorry! i would much rather be with you

Kai: skip

Y/N: baby, i can’t

Kai: then what am i supposed to do without you?? 

Kai: we miss you a lot princess

Y/N: we?? who tf is we??

A minute passes, no answer. 

Y/N: malachai

Kai: what??

Kai: don’t call me that

Y/N: what do you mean ‘we’? where did you go just now?

Kai: i want you back here right now

Y/N: i can’t, i’m sorry. 

Y/N: why did you say ‘we’? was that a typo?

Kai: what’s a typo?

Y/N: a mis-type. like an error. pushed a wrong key

Kai: oh

Kai: no

Y/N: is someone else there?

Kai: not anyone you haven’t seen before

Y/N: malachai you come clean right now or you’re gonna be in trouble

Kai: i like trouble

Y/N: won’t be a fun trouble

Kai: you wouldn’t

Y/N: i would, now tell me who’s there with you

Kai: it’s no big deal, i promise! 

Y/N: kai

Kai: okay fine

Kai: i haven’t put anything on since you left and i’m hard again

Kai: and i’m still sore from last night a little

Kai: like, my hips are

Kai: but i can’t control it. i took a nap and woke up with it so fucking hard it hurts

Y/N: oh my god

Y/N: have you been talking about your dick this whole time??

Y/N: that’s ‘we’?

Kai: yeah

Kai: sorry

Y/N: fucking hell kai, i’m in class!

Kai: that’s why i used code word!

Y/N: malachai, you need better code words!

Kai: don’t call me that!

Kai: can you plz come home??

Y/N: baby, i wish i could, but i can’t! you’re gonna have to work this one out on your own

Kai: no no no i need you here. i’m so sick of working them out on my own. plz i need you

Y/N: kai…

You sigh, wanting nothing more than to leave class and go back to him. Not only would you so much rather be with your boyfriend right now, but you also know how much he does need you. After eighteen years of no human contact in the prison world, he had to do everything himself, including this. 

Kai: i’m sorry

Kai: you don’t have to, i don’t want to burden you

Y/N: no no baby, you’re never a burden to me

Y/N: you know i love you, right?

Kai: yes. i love you, too. but i’m sorry i’ve been so needy

Y/N: you’re okay. you’ve spent a long time alone, and it’s perfectly okay to want things, kai

Y/N: i so, so wish i could leave class and touch you right now

Y/N: wait hold up, i have an idea

Kai: okay

Y/N: i’m in the far back of the room. the only person behind me is fast asleep. can you work with me a little so i can get you off without being there?

Kai: i can try

Y/N: okay. perfect. 

Y/N: warning, i’ve only done this once in my life

Kai: i have never so you’ll do better than me

You smile.

Y/N: okay, cutie… start how you normally do, but i’m going to walk you through it, mkay?

Kai: okay. i am. it feels a little better but i need… i don’t know… help

Y/N: you need something wet so you can glide along it better, so spit in your hand and rub it along your length. do that until it’s wet enough

Kai: it’s sticky

Y/N: imagine it’s my mouth, okay? rub it fast enough that it gets warm and slippery, and imagine my mouth is around you

Y/N: suck on your own tongue, swish it around your mouth, and imagine it’s mine on your cock, okay

Kai: i’m doing that now

Y/N: good boy, does it feel better?

Kai: a little

Kai: but reading that made my body jolt

Y/N: you like that? you like being praised? i can give you that

Kai: plz oh plz

Kai: can i moan?

Y/N: plz, baby, yes! make all the sounds you want and jerk yourself faster. i love your little whimpers and moans and every time i hear them i get more turned on. imitate how i’d be quickening my pace if i could hear you right now

Kai: it feels so good. i added more spit, is that okay?

Y/N: yes, kai, perfect. you’re doing so well! keep it up!

Y?N: and buck your hips up into your hand if you feel ready for it. your hand won’t be doing all the work and it’ll feel so good, pumpkin

Kai: i’m whining so loud for you. and i can hear those wet sounds, too, now. i love hearing those sounds

Y/N: yes! good boy, keep doing that. those are the sounds you make when your balls are hitting me from fucking into me so hard, that’s why you like them. i know you, kai. listen to those and imagine you’re bucking your hips into me. imagine my eyes rolling in my head with each thrust

Y/N: hey also - this might help. are you on your back?

Kai: yes

Y/N: okay, can you be a good boy for me, and get on your knees? ball up a pillow and thrust in the hole. might feel more real, and your hand might be getting tired anyway

Kai: i’m doing it, am i being good for you?

Y/N: i’m not sure, send me a pic

Kai: wait, what?

Y/N: send me a pic of you on top of that pillow. don’t worry, no one’s around me. no one’s seeing your sweet lil cock except me

There’s a few seconds of silence from him, then a picture comes through. You look around to make sure no one’s watching before opening it, but nobody’s even remotely paying attention to you. 

And thank god for that because the image you get takes your breath away. Your boyfriend, red, teased, and hard, mounted atop a pillow. His strong thighs are visible in the image, as are his fingers, which you so wish were deep inside you right now. 

Y/N: fucking hell, kai

Kai: is it okay?

Y/N: okay?? you look so fucking gorgeous!!

Kai: so am i doing a good job?

Y/N: yes, baby, you’re doing so well. i wish i was there to help you, tell you in person. fuck, you deserve to hear it in person. i’m gonna treat you so well when i get home, i promise. you’re being such a good boy

Kai: do you want me to keep going?

Y/N: yes, kai, keep going. buck your hips into that pillow, feel how it wraps around you, how you feel against the fabric. get your pace back up, too. and moan for me, baby

Kai: feels so good i love you i love uou, i lvoee you, iiiiii lvuwo uou

You receive a keysmash as he must be trying to type while still fucking into the pillow. Fuck The Notebook, a keysmashed ‘I love you’ is the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen. 

Y/N: i love you, too, baby

Y/N: are you close?

Kai: i’m so fuxcking close i’m gonna

Kai: im noist gonna lastttt

Y/N: fuck i’m so wet, kai. holy fuck

Y/N: send another pic

Kai: i try

Kai: button

Kai: can’t find

Kai: i’m cumming princess i can’t stop it

Y/N: that’s okay. you’re doing perfect. cum for me, kai. let it go. bet it feels so good

You don’t hear a response for a few minutes. You bite your lip, desperate for an update, but understand that he’s probably taking a bit to recover. His orgasms are usually pretty intense, and you definitely don’t think this one was an exception. 

Still, you hover over the send button for a text asking if he’s okay. 

Kai: *1 video attached*

You swallow. He did not…

You look around again, and then check to make sure your volume is all the way down, and your phone is on silent. You’re not about to be the student that plays borderline porn in the classroom, and you’re especially not about to let anyone except you ever hear Kai’s moans. 

You’ll listen to the audio after class, definitely. But you just have to see what’s on the video right now. 

Immediately after you click on it, your eyes widen. 

Kai’s hovering over the camera, jerking himself off rapidly. His eyes are rolled back in his head, and tongue darts out to wet his lips. Words tumble from his mouth. You hate that you can’t hear them, but for now, you just need to see him cum. God, he’s so pretty. You can see him getting closer and closer, and then finally, his hips buck sharply. His balls bounce into the frame of the camera, and then he cums. You actually gasp as you realize how he set this up. The minute he cums, his load squirts directly onto the camera lens. Ropes cover the screen completely, and it almost feels like a facial. Through a tiny gap in the side, you can see his cock still releasing a few more, some hitting the camera again, some going far away out of view. Kai then swipes it away, slaps his cock on the lens, and then mutters something inaudible. The video cuts off right after the words, ‘I love you’ seem to leave his lips. 

Y/N: holy fuck

Kai: do you like? was it too much?

Y/N: noonono not too much at all

Y/N: i think that’s the hottest video i’ve ever gotten

Y/N: not only video, hottest thing i’ve ever seen

Y/N: fuck, kai, you’ve got me in the mood. i’m so fucking wet

Y/N: you were such a good boy all the way through

Y/N: do you feel better?

Kai: i feel so much better

Kai: but i’m still down for round two if you skip and come home

This time, you really debate it. But interrupting your thoughts comes the bell, and you have to start packing your things.

Y/N: bell just rang, one second

Kai: okay

You start to make your way out the door but Alaric stops you at the last second,

"Y/N?”

“Uh, hi.”

He waits for everyone to leave and then, “was I boring you today?”

“What?”

“Well, I noticed you’ve been texting for the last fifteen minutes of my class. Do you find this content boring? I would think you’d be interested.”

“Oh! Not at all, Professor! I love this material, but to be honest, I have been taught it most of my life. I wasn’t bored, just…”

“More entertained by your phone?”

You bite your lip, “I’m really sorry.”

“Who were you texting that was so much more interesting?”

“...,my boyfriend.”

“Kai?”

“Yes.”

Alaric sighs, “that boy is a bad influence, Y/N. You’re going to get hurt being with him.”

“He won’t hurt me, I promise. You all can relax. He’s really sweet when it’s just us alone.”

“So he wasn’t texting you about his next victim? Giving up live updates on where the poor guy is going?”

“No, he’s been at home all day. I have proof.”

“Fine. I believe you, but only because I was in my twenties once, too, and I can tell that that conversation was definitely more interesting than my lecture.”You freeze, but he’s not done. “Don’t bother with the bathroom rendezvous, just take the rest of the day off.” Your heart stops, you swear. “And during my next class, tell Kai he needs to find alternative ways of dealing with his, uh, issues.”

“I, uh, um-”

“See you Wednesday, Y/N.”

“Uh, see… you… too.” 

You stand there, mortified, until he says, “bye,” one more time, and then you nearly trip over the doorway trying to get out. In the hallway, though, you can only laugh to yourself about the whole ordeal. 

On that note…

Y/N: i’ll be there in five, kai ;)

[beansprouts]

lil reaction / theory / criticism thought dump because i just finally finished The Calling; spoilers

Right away, the first and most glaring thing for me: in the DA novels, Ga*der is unable to write badass women without tying their agency to a man and then domesticating them, and it drives me insane. It's been a while since I read The Stolen Throne, and I remember Rowan primarily as a badass knight, but here, only a few years later, Maric believes she enjoyed being a wife and mother more than she ever enjoyed fighting (and she died of Padmé Amidala syndrome before the events of this novel of course). Genevieve is a nuanced character, but one of her defining motivators her whole life was becoming a Grey Warden warrior (and then the fierce commander she is in this novel) and yet we're supposed to believe in her lotus eater dream she's perfectly content as a placid housewife? Fiona is an excellent heroine, but even she ends up tragically producing a noble baby, blond and human of course (not even going to touch the bullshit racism of "the child of an elf and a human is a human"), whose future is given more framing in the last chapter than novel protagonist Fiona herself.

I hope I don't need to explain how frustrating it is to read books set in a world that claims to treat men and women equally, but then only frames women in the narrative when they happen to be wives, mothers, or sisters of important men.

On the topic of Fiona's future: I knew from Inquisition that she was the only person ever cured of the Calling, and I was curious about HOW and hoping for at least a bit of discussion of such a lore-significant detail. We get precious little, though.

But I wanted to share my thoughts since I saw discussion of it on my dash. I am pretty confident that the taint was somehow passed onto baby Alistair for the following reasons:

- It doesn't make sense for the Architect's magic to have cured the taint, since we never see such an effect with Utha, who experienced this magic for much longer (from the time of The Calling to Awakening). Besides, it's implied that the magic accelerated a magical transformation to a darkspawn-like state; Fiona lost the taint entirely and never reached darkspawn status like Bregan, Utha, or Genevieve.

- Given how Maric is framed in these books, I was also wary of a narrative that he magically cured her Grey Wardenism with his Royal Purity Dick. But the timing for that theory doesn't work. Fiona continues to see more corruption spreading across her body after they have slept together.

- Weird shit happening to corrupted souls because of sex (and particularly sex as conception) echoes the Dark Ritual in Dragon Age: Origins. There's a thematic juxtaposition between both prequels and Origins of sex in places of battle, darkspawn, death, birth, and magic not fully understood. I think the intention is partially to set a Dark Fantasy For Adults With Violence and Sex! atmosphere that subsequent installments have moved away from.

- It's a bit messy (why was Morrigan's capturing of the dark god's soul instant versus the loss of Fiona's taint only happening later?) but I think it's the theory that makes the most sense both in-universe and thematically.

Speaking of the taint and the power of the Architect, do we ever learn how Duncan's dagger works, supposedly made of the same magic as the Architect's? Is it the same dagger you can retrieve in Return to Ostagar (which does bonus damage to dragons for some reason)?

I actually loved the character arcs of Genevieve and Bregan. I loved learning slowly about the dynamics of their complicated sibling relationship over the course of the novel, culminating in several twists.

...although Genevieve and Clarel in Inquisition, I can't help noticing, are very similar.

Really the more Ga*der I read the more I realize his novels just use the same few tropes over and over. It's not quite as bad as Alex*s Kennedy but it does become tiresome.

Take a shot every time he uses the word "swoop" or a character heroically jumps on top of a monster.

More positively: I love Loghain as a character. One could frame the two books and Origins as a character study of Loghain specifically: what kind of experiences shape a man with both the strengths and prejudices that lead him to be a badass here but the tyrant we see in Origins? I found it especially juicy that he was able to save Maric, Duncan, and Fiona here due to his suspicion of the Orlesians manipulating the Grey Wardens being correct- the very suspicion that becomes a self-destructive paranoia in Origins.

I was able to identify Julien and Nicholas as lovers almost instantly (I suspect this is true for many queer readers, though it's framed as a shocking revelation) and their outcome is beautifully heartbreaking. Knowing Ga*der is gay himself, I don't really see it as an instance of Bury Your Gays (although such a criticism would be valid I think, since they're the only gay characters in these two books and they do die first). To me the message feels like: gay love like this, however beautiful, is doomed by a hateful society and can only survive in dreams. And that's fucking tragic... but also extremely Gen X of an LGBT take.

Because, let's be real, Maric and Loghain were at least a little bit married all along.

Aside: Duncan's little accidental hookup with the random circle mage was very cute.

I tried to ship Maric and Fiona, I really did, but their romance felt so bland to me that I was more invested in Duncan's aforementioned one-page tryst. I'm not sure why. Maric and Fiona grew to trust each other naturally enough. But Fiona kissing him felt less like romance and more like an outburst of exhaustion and loneliness; all of her subsequent longing to be with him just felt out of character.

Duncan and Fiona's friendship was delightful, though.

I went into this book excited to get more Duncan (I have a Grey Warden OC who is Duncan's bastard daughter lol. so much for women not related to powerful men :P) and I found his backstory compelling as I'd hoped. My only issue is that a supposed Orlesian speaks with an American accent in-game, because if Duncan had a French accent Loghain's anti-Orlesian fearmongering would make more sense to newcomers to the world, but that's a DAO problem really, and if I'm to start pointing out linguistics issues we'd be here all summer.

Utha's signing I found surprisingly well done (from my perspective, though I'm not in a signing nor nonverbal community).

Shout out to the Fereldan Circle for apparently attracting evil megalomaniacs like Kirkwall attracts blood mages. I wonder if young mages had evil mage takeover drills like I had growing up for bomb threats in public school.

[moonstruvk]

creatures united incorrect quotes/things my friends and i have said pt seven

etie: i was unable to seduce the Lord of evil the first time, ill get him when I meet him again

-

simon: oh yeah man i’m sorry for sleeping so late

gray: it’s not that late ??

simon: wdym it’s 9pm

gray: dude..

simon: WHAT??

-

indigo: babygrill if ur so obsessed w me just say so and stop dickriding me /neg on the internet 🥰🤭

-

helen: ALL GINGER CATS ARE TERRORISTS.

joseph: IT’S JUST HOW THEY ARE

-

indigo: porpl

etie: u r so purple

indigo: in a good way or covered in dye way?

etie: yes.

-

bex: it’s okay, my dad is more delulu therefore you have a chance

helen: he’s 33 years old

bex: .. time travel is less delulu

-

indigo: why can a fictional man i write love me more than my father does

seph: GO AHEAD AND CRYITTLE GIRLCLLL

-

etie: my toxic trait is that I think that I could look at a bear and we would form an instant bond of love and friendship and he would let me snuggle him

helen: ME

carter: all of us fr

-

simon: why is this character enhancing my daddy issues

seph: because you don’t have a dad

-

indigo, sending a picture of a 33 yr old man: he wants me

etie: it’s true

etie: I’m his beauty mark

-

helen: deciding whether to scream, cry, or buy brownies

simon: i’d say all three tbh

simon: scream turns into crying and then u buy the brownies

helen: ur so right

-

simon: i just got jumpscared by ur dead name but thank you

bex: HEPP

-

joseph: call him muffincakes when you breakup with him

-

simon: i need someone to look at me the way JD looks at veronica

gray: dw bbg, i’ll just 👁️👁️

-

indigo: SEPH SAID I LOOK LIKE A MALEWIFE BOYKISSER

etie: YOU ARE

-

seph: would you guys still love me if i committed a murder

gray: yes

-

bex: i would suck dick for more pineapple

indigo: i would suck dick for fun but penis’s scare me and i have a bad gag reflex

-

seph: the price of my sins is accidentally eating a Reese's cup with the paper on

-

bex: GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE I JUST FORTUITOUSLY PULLED MY BATTERY CHARGER CABLE OUT OF MY ENCLOSURE

-

simon: i’m fatherless??

joseph: i killed ur dad

simon: cool!!

-

indigo: this entire book is him curing my daddy issues

etie: or making them worse

-

seph: HEY FAGGOTTT!!

seph: .. THATS NOT BEX, THATS NOT BEX.

-

indigo: I’m still so upset i’m trying to cope by being hot

indigo: .. and watching mermaids

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The ��very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Before I explain the choices that were made here, let’s go over a few definitions:

Big: Either physically huge or has an undeniably large aura.

Dumb: Does not seek nor need intellect or perspective. Their main motto is, “F*ck around and find out.”

Sad: Has a backstory the creators don’t want you to know about. They are just too broken looking to not have at least one dead parent.

Dick: A masculine presence that is like broth - it’s the basic ingredient to a bro, but what kind of bro depends on what you put into it.

Bitch: Has a blade in their bootstrap and is constantly hungry for either the flesh of their enemies or a decent filet mignon.

Hoe: Has all the ingredients of a bitch, with the added bonus of not giving a shit. Can and will wear the same clothes for several days, if not weeks.

Okay, now that we are all caught up, here is my analysis process.

*******************

Merc Energy Alignments

Engineer (Big Dick Energy): He is the boss. The father figure. The paternal form. If his energy used that broth metaphor, he would be a stew of epic proportions and flavor. He wears a lot of hats…or in this case, a lot of dicks.

Heavy (Big Bitch Energy): Hear me out. I know that Medic is a baddie. That’s just a known fact, like gravity. But! Heavy has more restraint, especially off the field. He has perfected the stone-cold stare. He could pull off a ball gown better than most of his teammates. His stature demands respect. He is the bitch.

Medic (Big Hoe Energy): Feral. Was and still is the kid that hisses at people they don’t like. Their main goal is to blow up, act like they don’t know nobody, and then erase everyone’s mind to finish the job. They are here to party and then make sure there are no witnesses. Monogamy is a construct. Gender is a construct. Romance is a construct. Everything is a construct.

Scout (Dumb Dick Energy): Ignorance could not be any blisser than this, buddy. He would rather kiss one of Soldier’s raccoons than gain a single brain cell. Leave all the curing cancer and making the world a better place to the smart guys, we’ve got some screwing around to do. This banister isn’t gonna grease and slide down itself!

Pyro (Dumb Bitch Energy): The baddie you never knew you needed. Sure, off the field, there’s no thought behind those glass eyes. But the moment they touch dirt and see a few merc babies in need of some “entertaining,” all you’ll see is a flash of flame and an ashy blood stain. How could someone whose curves amount to a plastic ruler light such a fire in all of us?

Soldier (Dumb Hoe Energy): This guy has smeared himself in honey on multiple romantic and casual occasions, has several raccoon pets, and still manages to have a healthier relationship than most actual heterosexual couples. We stan a queen. Also looks good in any outfit, especially including none at all.

Sniper (Sad Dick Energy): Parents that don’t accept him? Check. Cynical outlook on life? Check. Looks as if he hasn’t showered in a week? Double check. He looks like a lean, scratched up stray dog that you just want to take in and teach how to trust. This grown man would bawl his eyes out if anyone paid him a genuine compliment. How could any judge ever arrest him with those big, brown sad eyes? I don’t care how many people he’s murdered, he’s depressed!

Spy (Sad Bitch Energy): Of course you want to help him, but there’s no way he’d even let down one iota of his walls to make himself even a tiny bit vulnerable. He has the distinct aura of a heart-of-stone vampire that could kill you in an instant but won’t because, in his words, you aren’t worth the effort. Please…sir…drink some water. Take a break. You do not need to look flawless all the time. I want to see you with bed head. On the edge of a mental breakdown. Sick with the flu. Your need to be perfect almost takes away from your sexiness. Almost.

Demo (Sad Hoe Energy): Is so self-destructive that it’s often confused with a dumb hoe. But he is not dumb - but oh boy does he want to be. He’ll do anything and everything to forget, to numb the pain, to hide his sadness. At this point, it’s too late for any healthy coping mechanisms. The crutch is so far embedded that it’s more like a fifth limb. Definitely cries in the shower every morning with a pirate-themed rubber ducky they won at a carnival staring them in the eyes. Will add alcohol to absolutely anything.

Disclaimer: I finished this at 10:47 p.m., and most of this took place late at night. Please forgive me.

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝕃𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕍𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣 ~

The mystical bookshop on the opposite end of the street seldom had customers but your boredom was getting the best of you, having just moved to a small town without any acquaintances. The last thing you expected when entering the dusty bookshop was a handsome boy glimpsing at you from behind his glasses. Maybe this innocent boy could cure your boredom? 

ℂ𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤: SMUT ; bookshopowner!Jeongin x fem!reader. Virgin!jeongin, switch!reader x switch!Jeongin, strangers to friends, blowjob, handjob, penetrative sex, unsafe sex (careful pls), light humiliation, corruption kink, nicknames, orgasm (m/f), cum (outside), mentions of possession. 

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 2.7 k 

ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖: This is a collab with a bunch of other (hella talented) writers [ @milkym00n​ @seungmoomin​ @gothicstay​ @hyunsluvv​ @lilixeu​ @moonlit-lixie​ @binniesbrat​ ] so please read their works right here!! (love u guys and thank u Serenity for including me ><)

ALSO! thank you guys so much for 400 followers ack i wanna hug every single one of you~!

The ivy green building on the corner was rarely visited. It’s white pillars with gold swirly capitals looked inviting as you had just moved to the apartment complex across the street and were in need of some entertainment, having moved to a new town all by your self. Through the cloudy show window you saw litterary classics leaning against small mahogany painting aisle and crystals in all different shapes and sizes, all scattered across a velvet maroon piece of cloth. 

You leaned against the window, sheilding your eyes from the sun using your hands as you looked inside but to your disappointment you saw nothing but your own reflection. The warmth of the sun radiated on your back as a cool breeze stinged your cheeks. ‘It sure would be nice to sit in the small shop and read’ you thought as you wrapped your hands around the chipped golden door handle, pulling it down and being exposed to the smell of bound books.

The bell above the old wooden door rang as you entered through the rusty ivy green door, embellished with small colored glass panes. 

“Welcome to I.N bookshop, how can i-” 

Jeongin peeked from behind a big book, fascinated over how such a cute girl had entered his dusty little shop. His round glasses covered most of his face,  light pink cheeks hiding behind them. Putting the aged leather book away he stood up from his seat and scratched his thick, slightly curly black locks. This situation was unusual to say the least. The shop was after all only sought out by elders that wanted to find the books they had read in their teenage years when youth still glowed around them. 

A smile spread across your face as you saw the young boy shifting his eyes over the piles of grubby books, some of them piling up hindering you from coming closer. He blushed upon the state of the store but promptly walked up to you, keeping his eyes glued to the creaky floorboards underneath his feet. 

“Oh, hi u-uhm... I’m Jeongin! Nice to meet you” he said sheepishly, eventually sneaking a glance of your cute face. 

“Hi, nice to meet you. I’m y/n! I just moved across the street a couple of days ago and have just been staring at the shop from my window. Thought I might...c-check it out”.

You felt a shyness creep up on you, shifting your skirt slightly as you felt Jeongin’s looming eyes on your cleavage, silence widened over the small wooden cabinet-like shop. 

Jeongin snapped back into reality after you looked at him questionably, your head tilted as you tried to cover yourself from his predatory gaze with your hands. The curly haired boy gulped before shoving his delicate veiny hands into the pockets of his black dress pants. 

“Uhm.. so.. w-what do you usually read?” he asked while peering up. Looking into the same direction you saw a cozy half loft nuzzled into the far right of the shop, a corroded ladder being the only way to get up there. 

“I like pretty much anything,,, d-do you have any favorites?” you asked shyly as your gaze returned to the floor, seeing books piled up around your feet. 

He laughed timidly as he made his way over to the rusty ladder, stepping over heaps of untouched books and guiding you to do the same, kicking and pushing some piles away.

“I usually sit up there and read so all of my favorites are hidden from the customers heh...” he anxiously grabbed the back of his neck, looking down to the left as he spoke. 

“We can sit up there if you like!” Jeongin added, his voice getting excited since he gets to talk about his favorite literary works with you! Shyly, you nodded as your hands wrapped around both sides of the ladder, stepping onto the first step. Cautiously you climbed up and with every step you could see more of the loft unfolding in front of your eyes, your gaze on floor level. Jeongin decided to help you by holding the ladder, making sure you didn’t fall but this soon proved to be a mistake. He looked up with the intention of seeing how far up you’d gotten but his eyes landed underneath your skirt, your light pink lace panties on display for his puppy eyes to see. His breath hitched upon seeing the outline of your cunt and his hormones were flying like sparks, causing a painful erection to form inside his boxers. 

After what seemed like an eternity of fumbling on the ladder you finally stood on the half loft, carefully peeking down to see Jeongin still gripping the ladder while his cheeks were flaming red. 

“uhm,,, you coming up or..?”

He cleared his throat as he looked up, seemingly lost in thoughts. 

“Yeah,,, totally” he said awkwardly while climbing up. You offered him your hand as he neared the loft which he grabbed, seizing the opportunity to hold your soft hand that were enhanced by small gold rings and a bracelet. His heart was in his throat as your touch effected him more than he thought. He coughed to clear the nervosity from his gut but to no avail. 

When his hands travaled down to his pockets that’s when you noticed the tent between his two legs. A thousand thoughts flashed through your mind as your body came to a standstill. Should I run away and never look back? Should I help the poor boy? After all, he seemed awfully lonely enclosed in these 4 walls all day long and so were you, not having anyone to contact in the new city. 

Jeongin noticed your stiff figure, the light mumbling of a radio being heard from the white speakers on a small coffee table next to two old mustard yellow armchairs. Your eyes eventually met his. His gaze was as sweet as honey and his musky scent enhanced by the aroma of the ancient books. You felt yourself tensing up, your crossed legs clenching as you broke the eye contact with the fox-like boy. His eyes hooded whilst being filled with a bashful aura. 

“Kiss me”

You blurt out without even thinking. The neediness in your cunt growing wetter by every minute. Jeongin’s eyes brown orbs widened. 

“W-what...here? Now..?” 

“Don’t act dumb. I see...t-that” you glanced down at his erection for a split second, gulping as you saw the size. 

Flustered, Jeongin tried to cover himself from your eyes as a hot flash descended down his body. His blushed state, his innocent eyes hiding behind those black wired glasses and his veiny hands peeking through the paws of his dark blue sweater made you just wanna slam him against a wall, taking his innocence from him. 

You inched closer to him, his face in level with yours due to your similar heights. Your head tilted slightly, a pleading expression contorting across your features as he stared at your plush lips, wide eyed. His delicate hands form into hard fists, trying his best to not let his loneliness get to him. 

But he’s too weak. 

Cupping your crimson cheeks, he pulls you into a deep kiss and without hesitating you kiss him back on his precious coral lips. Your hands explored his body and to your surprise a toned abdomen was hiding beneath his warm appearance. Coaxing his tongue, you lick his bottom lip, moaning into the kiss as his hands stroked your back and gropes your ass. Heat rose to your cheeks as your cunt was sopping, having not been touched like this for a while but you weren’t the only one reacting this way. Your hands wandered down before momentarily stopping, you hesitated before palming the dark haired boy through his slacks but was pleased once you earned a moan from his petal-like lips. You pulled away from the fiery kiss, smirking as you spoke in a slightly hoarse voice.

“Sensitive babyboy, I barely touched you” 

He stiffens in your arms that were wrapped around his waist, his eyes settling anywhere but on yours. With a cocky smile you grab his tiny face by the jaw and force him to look into your lustful eyes. 

“You’re a virgin, right?” you asked with a smile on your lips.

“N-no,, no I’m not!” Jeongin huffed out, visibly flustered. 

“I don’t like people that lie”.

Your cold voice scared Jeongin but the fear added fuel to his neediness. He needed you. You pushed him down, the boy landing in one of the dusty armchairs with a thump.

“Y-yes I am a...v-virgin” 

He hesitated uttering those words, his lip quivering from the sexual tension but he also felt vulnerable, not having anyone to talk to about such matters. Jeongin watched you with hungry eyes as you pulled your shirt over your head, disheveling your hair in the process.

“What you staring at? Come on, off with your clothes” you said as you pointed towards his member. He obeyed in an instant but not losing eye contact with the soft skin that you revealed once you stepped out of your skirt that was now pooling on the floor, leaving you with nothing than your bra and panties. Jeongin’s hands were shaking as he tried to unbutton his pressed slacks. You rolled your eyes at his pitiful attempt. 

Your knees hit the wooden flooring as you helped him remove his pants, Jeongin bucking his hips slightly causing you to pull them down the entire way. Embarrassingly enough his precum had already created a wet stain on his boxers which made you snicker. You trace along his clothed dick with your fingertip, feeling him pulsating under your touch as blood accumilated between his legs. 

“How cute. Babyboy is throbbing from anticipation, isn’t that right?” you cooed to which he glared at you, mad for being humiliated by someone he barely knew but secretly enjoying it in his perverted fantasies. 

Upon pulling down his boxers you were greeted by his erect member that was barely touching his clothed abdomen. Your mouth watered from the sight, how fine purple veins snaked up his shaft and how his sensitive carmoisine tip glistened with a droplet of precum trickling down. You glanced up at his slightly puffy face and he nodded as if you had just asked him for premission. Using the tip of your tongue you lapped up his precum like an animal, eager to taste his sweetness as you pursed your lips and inserted only the tip into your wet mouth. 

Jeongin’s knuckles whitened as he gripped onto the armrests for dear life, his orgasm already looming around him due to his inexperienced nature. Your hands stroke his inner thigh wanting him to relax but that was the last thing on Jeongin’s mind. If he relaxed he would cum faster and that would be too much embarrassment to handle in one day, especially in front of you. Your pursed scarlet lips cascaded down his shaft as your hand wrapped around the part that wouldn’t fit down your throat. Small whimpers were heard from the boy with glasses everytime you lifted your head upwards, swirling your tongue around his leaking tip before plunging down again, all whilst your hand jerked off his girthy base. It didn’t take long before the poor boy was unable to controll the lewd noises that pierced your ear like the sound of music. For his every moan you got wetter, those pathetic whines of his causing you to dig your nails into his thighs, holding back from marking him up with hickies and showing him that he’s your new playtoy. 

The high-pitched moans mixed with the subtle murmuring of the radio still going in the background, the sloppy sound of your spit as you bobbed your head intensely driving Jeongin closer to his release. Just as he felt him twitch between your cheeks you pulled off, kissing his tip before looking up at him with doe eyes. The expression that haunted his face was priceless. You smiled at his bedraggled state, his twinkling eyes and heaving breath signaling that he was lost in pleasure moments ago. 

“Liked it, babyboy?” 

He nodded in agreement before grabbing your narrow wrist and standing you up, pushing you against a bookcase causing a couple of lightweight books to fall on either side of you. His mouth was dangerously close to your ear, his body close enough to radiate heat.

“But don’t call me that”. Jeongin’s voice changed, now more raspy. 

“Aw, does babyboy get shy when I call him that?” you ridiculed him but soon regretted it when he raised your eyebrow at you before turning you around and bending you down, you hands grabbing onto the shelf. 

“Hey! You can’t ju-”

Your moan cut you off as the tip of his cock entered you with ease, your juices almost dripping down your leg from the arousal as he pushed your panties to the side. Jeongin hissed as his member advanced into your throbbing pussy, desperate to feel you around his sensitive shaft. Small whimpers spilled out your mouth as he felt much bigger than he seemed, moving at a slow pace yet still hitting your g-spot with every thrust. His cold laugh sent shivers down your back where Jeongin’s hand was stragically placed in order to keep you bent down, the other hand wrapped around your hip.

“You’ve been fantisasing about this, haven’t you?” he groaned to which you tsked. 

“I think you’re talking about yourself, babyboy. With your nose in those books all day you surely must have read heaps of erotica.” 

He slammed his hips against yours making you mewl out in pleasure, trying to hold onto the shelf but only knocking down more books.

“Don’t c-call me that!” he defended himself from the shameful nickname you had given him but you couldn’t help but to laugh. 

“You’re adorable, you know that babyboy?”. Your gibbling laughter annoyed Jeongin causing him to push you back, his big hands wrapping gently around your neck and choking you slightly making your high-pitched whimpers more frequent. His pace quickened as he was nearing his orgasm and you could once again feel him twitching, only this time he was twitching inside your sopping cunt which further caused the knot in your stomach to tighten. 

“J-jeongin,,,f-fuck”. Shutting your eyes you saw a spectrum of colors fly by as your head spinned from the impending orgasm. The dark haired boy smirked, his eyebrows furrowed as he thrusted into your squelching cunt, the filthy noise completely muffling out the babble of the radio. Being his first time he was annoyingly good, pleasuring you in the ways you were longing for. 

A broken moan erupted as the hand around your neck descended down, stopping for a moment to give your nipples a twist before settling at your swollen clit. The fast circling movement of his long fingers paired with his relentless thrusting made you see stars behind your stinging eyes. You were unraveling at the seams in his touch but so did Jeongin, his final thrusts sloppy as a string of whines left his soft lips. 

Your legs gave up on you when you finally released, the knot in your core melting away as your juices coated Jeongin’s aroused dick. Jeongin crashed his hips against you one last time, the impact causing your butt to bounce against him. He pulled out quickly, dick twitching in his hand before his hot semen ran down your buttcheek as you were panting, holding onto anything on the dusty and creaky wooden shelf. 

Jeongin last cries echoed in your ears as he milked his dick out of every cumdrop, his glasses slipping off the tip of his nose. The hot substance quickly cooling off while trickling down as you tried to stand up, putting a hand onto Jeongin’s shoulder. 

“Y-you good?” he stuttered, scared that he’d hurt you.

“Yeah... think so” was what you managed to say before falling into Jeongin’s sturdy embrace. He let out a surprised squeal as he caught you, snickering quietly at your struggle to hold yourself up. 

“I guess I’m your first friend in town now” he smiled shyly as you looked at him naively. Blushing profusely, you looked deep into his dangerously sweet eyes that were rimmed by his thin wire glasses.

“I guess you are”. 

[feral-dumbass]

Just Like Heaven

James “Bucky” Barnes/ Female Reader

Summary: Bucky teased you right before he left for the gym and now he gets to reap the benefits.

Includes: Oral (Male receiving), Manhandling, Unprotected sex, Dirty talk, Overstimulation

Words: 2,319

A/N: Did I truly write it if my fic doesn’t include at least a hint of overstimulation? The answer is no. Title credit to The Cure. Tagging my friends 😊 @babybluestan​ @gagmebucky​ @heresyoursnackdumbass​

Masterlist

“Hey, baby.” You’re in the kitchen when Bucky comes back home from the gym.  He plants a small kiss on your cheek, acting all sweet on you after he left you high and dry this morning. You both woke up to Bucky’s early ass alarm this morning. Some in a better mood than others. One of Bucky’s default moods when it comes to you is to be a tease. He relied heavy on that filthy fuckin’ mouth of his to tease you with dirty talk, his voice deep and gravelly due to just waking up. Just when his deft metal fingers slipped into the front of your panties to touch the wetness in between your thighs, he noticed the time. Bucky knew he wouldn’t hear the end of making them wait from Sam, let alone Steve. Bucky left the warm confines of your bed and was out your door quicker than you could say ‘forget the gym’. He took all the warmth when he left and just left you with sexual frustration. Nothing truly would suffice except Bucky’s touch, especially when you were so close to getting it. Too keyed up, you couldn’t go back to sleep and decided to be productive. 

“Hey.”  You glance at him from the corner of your eye and your brain momentarily stops functioning. You fully face him.  Looking like some kind of greek Adonis, Bucky stands next to you in a sleeveless black t-shirt and basketball shorts. His hair’s up in a messy bun with a few brown tendrils falling out, framing his face. His metal arm gleams under the fluorescent light. Your eyes trail down his arm as you're forced to be reminded of how his metal hand was in your underwear just a few hours ago. Without thinking about it, you drop to your knees, right hand balling up the bottom hem of his damp basketball shorts. “Bucky, let me suck your cock.”

His face flashes with surprise before he smirks. His metal hand cups your cheek as the other uncurls your fist out of his shorts. “What a sight to be greeted with, but I’m sweaty.”

“I literally do not give a shit.” You reach for the waistband of his shorts as he groans, momentarily distracted by your eagerness, before he’s swatting your hand away. 

“Wait, no. I don’t want that for you.” You jut out your lower lip and give your biggest puppy dogs eyes. You’re legitimately pouting that you can’t have your boyfriend’s massive cock down your throat. “You can’t barely even fit all of me in your mouth. I’m doing your jaw a favor.” He strokes your cheek lovingly. 

“I am willing to try, Bucky. Please.” 

“Jesus christ.” He squats down to your eye level, taking his hand off your cheek to the back of your neck. He pulls you in for a short filthy kiss, tongue sweeping into your mouth to caress yours for a second. He waits until you open your eyes again. This man is making a new record for leaving you momentarily stunned today. He needs to make sure you understand. “I’m going to take shower and then you can do whatever you want to me.” Bucky helps you up off the floor and you trail after him to your bedroom. “I’m not letting you take a shower with me.” 

You fold your arms over your chest as you sit on the bed. “Tease.” 

“You fuckin’ love it.” Bucky looks over his shoulder, grins, and winks at you before he goes into the bathroom. 

You wait on the bed like the good girl you are. You lift your eyes off your phone when you hear him come out. He stands in the doorway as steam escapes behind out of the bathroom behind him. His now wet hair is thrown into another messy bun and water droplets drip down the expanse of his muscles. Your mouth runs dry. Suddenly you’re thirsty. You toss your phone carelessly to the side and slide off the bed to your knees. A white towel loosely hangs around his hips. He’s not like Adonis, he is Adonis. Maybe you’re truly dating a God.

“Bucky.” If he doesn’t come to you, you will crawl to him. You’ll suck him dry right in the doorway. You don’t think he realizes this.

“Sweetheart, look at you. On your knees, begging for me. Love when you get like this. Why don’t you ask nicely and I’ll consider giving you my cock? It’s what good girls would do.” Your eyes follow as he walks over and sits on the bed. His legs spread wide, you situate yourself between them before you speak. 

“Bucky, please, let me suck your dick. I’ll do anything. I’ve missed you. Please.” You reach for the knot of the towel resting on his hip and wait for confirmation. He doesn’t swat your hand away, but instead, nods. 

You’re untying the cotton before Bucky can finish saying “Go ahead.” As both ends of the towel are thrown on either side of Bucky, his cock stands tall, hard and ready for your touch.

You rub your palms across his thighs. “Missed you so much, Baby. Not a second while you were gone did I stop thinking about your cock.” You leave kisses in his inner thighs. They get more sloppy the closer you get. The hard muscle of his thighs twitch as you bite a hickey into the inner part. Bucky’s eyes, heavy lidded, don’t leave you. You lick your palm before touching his dick. You pump him slowly as you kiss his lower stomach, muscles flexing under your lips.

“Bunny, you’re killing me. Stop the teasing.” His voice has gone down a few octaves. That’s when you know Bucky is truly horny. Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sound. 

“You fuckin’ love it.” He opens his mouth to retort, but you kiss the tip before taking him in your mouth. The only thing that comes out is a groan. You swirl your tongue around the head and suck.

“Jesus Christ.” You take his cock further into your mouth, your lips stretched around his girth. Bucky places one of his hands gently on your head as you start bobbing your head. “So good, bunny- fuck- Love your mouth.” A shiver runs through at the praise. You wanna test yourself. You want to see how far you can take Bucky’s cock down your throat. Breathing through your nose, you hollow your cheeks and slowly take down his length. It doesn’t take long to feel like you’re gagging. You’re tongue drags against him as you bob up for air. You catch your breath as Bucky checks on you. “You okay?” You nod. “You don’t have to deepthroat me, you know. We can save that for later. Just wanna feel your mouth on me honestly.” God, him caring just makes you want to deepthroat him more. 

“I love you.” You go back to his cock and suck him in earnest. Your head bobs quickly as you pump the rest of him that can’t fit. His muscles flex as he lets out a pornograpghic moan. In just a few minutes, Bucky gives you a warning. 

“Gonna cum.” You double down on your efforts and suck the absolute soul out of this man. He moans as he cums and it reverberates into your soul. You swallow all that he has to offer before he’s tugging you off his cock from overstimulation. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue to show that you swallowed. “Jesus Christ, get the fuck up here.” 

Bucky lifts you up into his lap with ease. Your legs are spread wide as you straddle his hips. You can feel his hardening cock through your flimsy booty shorts as he pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth and you gently suck on it. Bucky leans back until his back hits the bed and you’re hovering over him. The movement has you sliding against him. Feeling that sweet friction, you continue to grind against him. Sadly, you need to stop kissing him to breathe. 

“Bucky.” You whine as you bump your nose against his jaw. He knows exactly what your gonna say. He speaks before you can say anything else. 

“I know, I know. Just give me a few minutes.” You’ve never been more thankful for the super soldier refractory period. You’re pretty sure Bucky can feel you soaking through your shorts. You leave open mouth kisses up and down his neck, leaving a few hickeys here and there. His groan vibrates underneath your lips. “Fucking hell.” His hands press down on your gyrating hips and your movement becomes limited. “Can you stop being a cock slut for just a few minutes? I’ll cum before I can even fuck you.” 

“I can’t help it. Especially when it comes to you. Have you seen you? I will literally jump your bones anytime anywhere. Stop having such a nice cock and maybe I’ll stop being a cockslut.”

“Damnit.” Bucky flips you over so he’s on top and he starts heavily grinding down on you. Your fingers digging into his defined back as you feel him, fully erect, through your shorts. The friction turning your insides liquid. 

“Wait, wait. Buck.” You being fully clothed is not lost on you. In fact, you want them off. Bucky takes the hint or really, has the same feelings as you. He hips weigh heavy against yours as he helps you pull off your (his) shirt. You can barely comprehend that he throws it in some corner of the room before his mouth is on your chest. One of his hands massages the breast that his mouth doesn’t occupy. He does that for a few minutes, alternating between breasts, until he can feel your hips twitch in want. He’s off you in a instant and you miss his warmth. Bucky hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and tugs them off. You’re underwear going with them. He moves you more to the center of the bed before joining you again. He hovers over you, hand sliding down your stomach until he reaches your pussy. Three of his fingers smear your wetness around before using it to lube up his cock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, could you be any wetter?” He kisses you heavily before you can beg him. Finally, what you’ve been waiting for all day, Bucky slides into you. At the addicting stretch of him, you moan into his mouth and dig your nails into the meaty flesh of his bicep. His first few thrusts are slow, enjoying the feel of you stretched around him. He tears himself out of your grip and gets on his knees. He lightly slaps your thigh before he’s grabbing your ankle and bringing it over his shoulder. He does the same with the other, not missing a beat in his thrusts. 

“B-bucky.” You stutter out his name as he leans back on his haunches, your ass sitting ontop of his thighs. The position change setting your nerves on fire. 

“I want you to cum on my cock. C’mon, sweetheart. I wanna feel it.” He speaks in a gruff voice before rutting into you like a mad man. Every roll of his hips has you drowning in bliss. Bucky wraps his metal arm around your calves to keep you pressed against him and the other goes to rub your clit in rapid little circles. Bucky’s got you in such a position that you can’t shy away from the pleasure. He forces you to feel all of it and it’s not long before you can feel the rise in your lower belly. Bucky can feel your muscles tense and he rubs your clit faster. You reach your orgasm as Bucky fucks you through it. The onslaught of overstimulation making your legs shake. 

“God, have I mentioned how much I love when you cum?” Bucky gives you a little bit of reprieve as he flips you onto your stomach. “The tightest cunt on this planet.” Bucky hand smacks down onto your ass. It stings so hard you know it’s metal. He lifts your hips up again before he slides back in, hands on your hips keeping you pressed against him. You moan. His thrusts quick and hard as he makes your vision blurry. His metal hand leaves your hip to tap three fingers against your lips. Your pleasure riddled brain makes no second guesses. You take the three fingers into your mouth and suck on them like you did his cock. His fingers press down on your tongue like a makeshift gag just for you. Bucky’s other hand leaves your hip to circle your clit. Your hips buck to meet his thrusts as you fist the sheets, drool dripping down his hand and your chin. 

Your second orgasm comes rather quicky with the rate you and Bucky are going. Your thighs shake as your back arches, coming on Bucky’s cock for the second time tonight. Bucky gets in three more good thrusts before he grinds his hips into your ass as he cums. His hand leaves your clit to lace through your fingers fisting the sheets. You can hear Bucky’s groans even through your ringing ears. Bucky hand leaves your mouth to fist the sheets as you both calm down. 

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky flips you both over one last time, so you’re resting against his chest. 

He exhales through his nose. “I know. Lets stay like this a little longer.”

“Okay but like I have to take a shower now.” 

His arms wrap around your waist. “I won’t let you leave. Twenty minutes tops.” 

“Fifteen.”

“Twenty.” 

“Fine then five.” 

“Fifteen it is.” Bucky agrees. This Adonis god of a man knows that you’ll be passed out by the end of the fifteen minutes and he’ll get to cuddle you for longer.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Alpha and Omega - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Sam x Dean Rating: 18+ Tags: A/B/O, Darkness magic,  Alpha!Dean, Omega!Sam, Dub-Con (biological necessity), little bit of meta (cuz why not), Sam’s a needy mess, Dean is possessive af  Word Count: 4k Created for: @first-time-wincest-fest​ - 12x02 Mamma Mia | @spnabobingo​ - Male Omega | Summary: Amara wants to thank Dean by giving him the thing he needs most – Sam – but she knows the boys are stubborn, so she’s going to have to be creative. Problem is, she doesn’t tell Dean or Sam what she’s put in motion, and magic can be unpredictable.

Despite the many apparent flaws of these British Men of Letters dicks, at least Mick has the good sense to let Dean and Sam go. He offers to try helping Sam, but he doesn’t have any more ideas about his condition than that blonde bitch does, so Dean declines and gets Sam the hell out of dodge.

The moment they make it over the property line and past the efficacy of the anti-angel warding Cas is by their sides, sliding under Sam’s other arm to help Dean carry him to the Impala.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean growls, startling Cas and himself. Cas raises his hands in a show of good faith.

“I am just trying to help, Dean,” he reassures the hunter, lowly.

“Yeah, um, sorry man,” Dean shakes his head to clear it. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching Sam right now but he doesn’t want anyone’s hands on his baby brother. Begrudgingly, he lets Castiel grab Sam’s arm and help them to the car, where they gingerly lay a shivering, and for all intents and purposes unconscious, Sam on the back seat. “Cas, what’s wrong with him?” Dean tries to keep a grip on the panic in his voice but he doesn’t have much luck.

“It’s hard to be sure,” Castiel mutters, laying a hand against Sam’s forehead, which is burning hot. “We need to get him home immediately, this fever is dangerously high.”

Dean rounds the car to root through the first aid pack in the trunk, pulling out a few instant cold packs. “Here,” he cracks one up in his hands and passes it to Cas. “Get in back, try to keep him cool.” Cas slides into the back seat of the Impala, pulling Sam over his lap and pressing the cold pack against the young man’s forehead. Dean drops the spare cold packs beside him as he jumps in behind the wheel and peels out of the dirt road driveway in reverse, gunning them back home towards Kansas.

The use of cold packs and bags of ice they picked up at gas stations along their way get the trio home without Sam’s condition worsening. Dean would send up a thank you to Chuck for that except that he’s nearly positive Chuck’s sister is the reason Sam is in this mess in the first place. I thought she wanted to do something to thank me, not destroy my life. They get Sam into bed without too much trouble, and Castiel suggests stripping Sam out of his clothes to help keep him cool.

“Get away from him,” Dean growls, baring his teeth at his friend. Castiel once again looks at him in confusion, his brow crinkling as he stares hard at Dean.

“I’m going to call Rowena, see if maybe she can help us determine what is wrong with Sam.” Cas backs up cautiously, and Dean is glad to see him go.

Once he’s alone with his brother, he does think that stripping Sam down is a decent idea – at the very least he should change him into some clean pyjamas instead of the bloodied tatters he’s dressed in now. Dean sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing Sam’s hair away from his eyes. He has the sudden urge to lean down and kiss Sam, so he does – very carefully placing his lips against his little brother’s forehead. It seems to Dean like Sam presses back into the kiss, and when his lips retreat, Sam stretches his neck and turns his head into Dean’s side, almost like he’s burrowing there. The unconscious display of affection brings a surge of warmth to Dean’s chest, though he can’t find it in him to smile with Sam like this.

Gingerly, Dean unbuttons Sam’s shirt and eases it over his shoulders, his fingers tracing over Sam’s muscles on the way down each arm. He hadn’t spent too much time around Sam’s unclothed chest recently and he couldn’t help staring at the contours of his frame. Sometimes he spends so much time thinking about Sam as his little brother, he forgets how much he’d built himself up over the years, forgets about the strength that all those layers of shirts they wear everyday are hiding. Dean has to shake himself in chastisement for staring at Sam’s body and lusting after it like a creep when he’s supposed to be taking care of him. How could he be thinking with his dick, even now, when Sam is deathly ill? But he was thinking with his dick, because even seeing Sam half naked for a matter of thirty seconds seems to be enough to give him a semi. For fuck’s sake, Dean curses himself, and sets about the task of easing Sam out of his torn up jeans.

As he gets Sam’s abnormally long jeans off his abnormally long body, three things strike Dean as odd. The first, that the smell he’d overwhelmingly associated with Sam back at the farmhouse in Missouri all of the sudden permeates the air around him. Sure, he’d been smelling it this whole time – it had been almost unbearably strong on the 6 hour drive back to Kansas – but he figured he must have gotten used to it because it had sort of faded into the background until just now. Secondly, the way Sam’s legs were splayed out across the bed right now gave Dean a view of a dark wet patch on the light grey of Sam’s underwear – gross, Dean thinks to himself, until he realises that the stain isn’t on the front of Sam’s briefs like it would be if he’d pissed himself. That examination leads him to his third odd discovery, which is that Sam has a boner.

“Well, what have we here?” Dean spins to see Rowena standing in the doorway, smirking.

“I’m sorry, Sam’s turned into a what?” Dean blinks incredulously at Rowena, who’s perching on the edge of the table in the kitchen. He turns his head to look at Castiel, who is sitting stoically behind Rowena. The angel shrugs unhelpfully.

“An Omega, dearie,” Rowena enunciates more clearly, like she imagines she’s talking to a four year old.

“Right,” Dean nods, although he doesn’t really understand. “And I’m a–”

“An Alpha, yes,” Rowena reiterates, clearly annoyed Dean isn’t getting this. “Well, Sam’s Alpha, more specifically,” she amends.

“And what exactly does all this mean?” Dean grunts, frustrated.

“It means that you and Samuel are mates,” Rowena elaborates.

“We know that, we saw our shared heaven, like a decade ago. What the hell does it have to do with him being sick?”

“Samuel is sick because he’s an Omega in heat, and he needs his mate.”

“Well if I’m his ‘mate’ and he ‘needs me’ – I’m right here! So why isn’t he better?” Dean growls.

“I believe,” Cas clears his throat, “from what I understand of the traditional elements of this condition, that what Rowena means is that Sam needs you, as his mate, physically.” Cas looks sheepishly at Rowena for confirmation.

“Precisely,” she smiles thankfully at Castiel.

“Physically?” Dean’s not any closer to understanding what’s happening. “So what, I need to go hold his hand until his fever breaks?”

“Well, I’m not surprised that you might want to hold his hand, but it’s going to take a wee bit more than that.”

“Will you just tell me how the hell to cure him?” Dean shouts, accidentally shattering the beer bottle he’s holding. He looks down, surprised at his own strength and at the end of his tether now.

“Sexual intercourse,” Cas answers shortly, his face carefully blank. “Though, again, from my understanding, that will only cure his heat. He will remain an Omega and you will remain an Alpha.”

“What the hell are you talking about ‘from what you understand’?” Dean makes indignant air quotes at Cas.

“When Metatron put all of popular culture into my head it included every story ever written. There are a large number of stories on the internet that incorporate the dynamics of the Alpha/Omega hierarchy. It’s a trope primarily found in something called ‘fanfiction’,” Cas explains. “In fact, there is some ‘fanfiction’ about yourself and Sam if it would help you to understand the mating requirements.” Dean feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Cas, listen to me very carefully: under no circumstances are you to ever tell anyone else that those exist,” Dean groans, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Why is this happening?”

“That’s the part I’ve not got the faintest idea about,” Rowena sighs. “It would take something more than a simple spell to alter your anatomies like this. Not even an angel,” she glances at Castiel quickly to check she’s right in her assumption. “I’ve never heard of something like this actually happening outside of fiction.”

“It was Amara,” Dean sighs. “When she left she told me she was going to give me what I ‘needed most’, but I don’t know why she thought this was it. It just seems like some sick joke.”

“Ah,” Rowena nods sagely like she understands now. “She was giving you Samuel.”

“How is this ‘giving me’ Sam?”

“A physically bonded Alpha and Omega are bonded for life, inseparable. Without the other, they won’t survive their heats – or ruts, in your case.”

“So every time Sam goes into a heat, we need to have sex, or he dies?” Dean can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“You’ll also need to knot him,” Cas adds gravely. Noticing Dean’s look of incredulity, he continues. “The base of your penis will inflate when you ejaculate and lock you and Sam together for a brief time. It’s the knot that Sam needs to relieve the symptoms of his heat.”

“What the fuck?” Dean blanches.

“Not to importune but I do believe Samuel was running out of time when I examined him. You really should get to it, Dean,” Rowena cuts in.

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh? The guy’s unconscious! I can’t just–” Dean’s stomach roiled. The thought of fucking Sam was tempting, amazingly so, but the thought of doing it to Sam, without his knowledge or participation, was sickening.

“I can make him a wee draft to revive him and stave off the fever,” Rowena moves towards one of the cupboards in the kitchen where Sam keeps the common spell ingredients. “Then Castiel and I can make ourselves scarce and leave you two to it,” she smiles.

“And you’re positive this is the only way?” Dean presses desperately.

“That Amara is a crafty woman, she knew what she was doing.” Rowena throws some herbs into a small dish. “She saw that you would never ‘put the moves on Sam’, as you say. This is her way of giving you both that little push.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a bitch,” Dean grumbles, dropping his head in his hands and waiting for Rowena to finish the potion to wake Sam up.

Sam blinks awake wearily, vaguely aware that he’s safe and not being held captive anymore, but he can’t remember much more than snippets of sound and scent. The rumble of an engine, the smell of motor oil; the low tenor of Dean’s voice, and the scent of whiskey, apple pie, and old leather. He can make out all of those scents now, too, swirling around him and pulling him back into consciousness – like smelling salts.

“Hey, there he is,” Dean’s voice says nearby, he’s sitting on the side of Sam’s bed.

Sam nuzzles towards his older brother, inexplicably craving the closeness. “De,” Sam mumbles, still sleepy.

“Yeah, it’s me Sammy,” Dean smiles down at him gently, eyes soft. Sam feels an unusual rush of need wash over him like a heat wave and he presses himself as close to Dean as two bodies can possibly get with a blanket still in between them.

“Wha s’happening?” he grumbles into Dean’s chest, looping his long arms around his brother’s waist.

“Short version?” Dean scoffs, but not unkindly. “Listen man, I’ll explain everything, I promise but – right now I just need to make sure you get outta this in one piece,” Dean sighs, drawing his hand down Sam’s face and holding his cheek. Sam looks up at Dean quizzically, unused to the level of physical affection but finding he was in desperate want of more. He nods at his big brother – whatever’s wrong, he knows Dean will take care of him. “You trust me Sammy?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Sam realises he’s scared.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam breathes quietly into the slowly decreasing space between them. “Course I do,” he confirms again.

“Alright then,” Dean gulps and nods, mostly to himself though, like he’s trying to psych himself up for something. Then without any further warning, Dean’s lips are covering Sam’s and pressing him down onto the bed.

The fire that had been smouldering inside Sam for days now leaps and dances, as if Dean’s kiss is gasoline being thrown across him. Sam clings to Dean as he’s laid back onto the bed, and lets Dean climb into his lap and bury his hands in Sam’s hair. Dean licks across the seam of his lips and Sam parts them willingly, drinking in every bit of Dean that is being offered to him. He can’t remember why he needs Dean like this so badly, or when he started needing him, but now that he has him he couldn’t care less. He knows with certainty that the only thing he needs to be happy for the rest of his life is Dean – Dean loving him, Dean kissing him, Dean inside him. Fuck, he needs Dean inside him right fucking now.

At this realisation, Sam starts tearing into Dean’s clothes, ripping through the thread keeping buttons in their places without a thought. He expects Dean to start doing the same to him, but then realises he’s not wearing anything but his underwear, which suits Sam just fine. Dean has to pull away from him to wriggle out of his jeans, and Sam groans involuntarily at the sight of the bulge Dean reveals when he strips down.

“Someone likes the view, huh?” Dean teases him, voice deep and throaty, but Sam’s too far gone to come up with a bratty retort. All he can focus on is that he wants Dean’s cock – now.

“Shit, you look so big De,” Sam groans, reaching out a hand to cup around Dean’s member, still hidden behind black cotton. The front of the material is wet with precum, Sam can feel it against his fingertips.

“Think you can handle me, little bro?” Dean grabs Sam’s wrist and drags his fingers along the outline of his cock, up to the elastic waist of his boxers, and then inside them. Sam’s fingers curl around Dean and stroke him gently beneath the fabric. “Think you can fit all that inside your tight little ass f’me?” he grunts, thrusting into Sam’s grip.

“Fuck yes,” Sam rasps, and his breath sounds like it’s raking over hot coals in his throat. He pulls back from Dean to shed his own underwear, staring at it puzzledly when it comes away from his body covered in slick. What is that, he wonders as he feels it on his fingers. It doesn't feel like lube… “Dean?” Sam looks to his brother for answers.

“S’okay,” Dean rushes to reassure him, joining his little brother on the bed, both of them now completely bared to the other. “I’ll explain later, yeah? Just let me take care of you right now, okay?” Dean’s eyes are wide and pleading as he looks to Sam, and Sam nods; he trusts Dean. “Just lemme take care a’you,” Dean whispers again as he brushes their lips together, and Sam pulls him in tight for another bruising kiss.

Their bodies twist and tangle easily, Sam just letting Dean put them together however he wanted. The heat of Dean against him is overwhelming, the sweat on their skin mingles and sticks them together, pulling at their nerves every time they part. Sam doesn’t want them to part. He reaches between them, grabbing Dean’s cock in his hand and thrusts his own into the same grip. Their moans ring through each others’ mouths as Sam jerks them against each other, and they take turns fucking into his fist. Before long Dean pulls away from Sam with a groan, probably to stop himself from finishing before he’s had a chance to see what the inside of his brother feels like. Sam is glad of his consideration in this case, because if he ends tonight without Dean locked firmly inside of him, he’s going to feel like he’s missing out. If he was more clear headed, he might question why the phrase ‘locked inside of him’ is the one that came to mind but he’s not thinking too deeply about what he wants right now — he just wants.

“Need you, Dean,” Sam pants, widely, grabbing at Dean, trying to bring their bodies back together. “Need… ne—” Sam’s vocabulary has become shockingly singular, and he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be irritated with his brother when Dean smiles down at him smugly, knowingly.

“I know what you need, Sammy” Dean grins down at his little brother. Having Sam this strung out and desperate for him is like a drug. I could get used to this being a monthly thing, he smirks to himself, reaching his hand down between Sam’s legs and rubbing at his slick entrance. “Need me right here, dontcha Sammy? I can feel how much you need me,” Dean groans as the tip of his finger slips inside of Sam too easily, “fuck, you’re wet. So fucking wet for me, huh Sammy?”

Sam just nods blissfully down at Dean; it seems his vocabulary of one word has now receded to zero.

Cas had warned him about this, that as an Omega, Sam would start leaking like a fire hydrant, but at least it saved him having to hunt around for some kind of lube — he’d never needed to have that on hand before, and if he found any lying around the bunker there’s a decent chance it would be cursed or something. Plus, he bet this made the whole experience way better for Sam, so he was all for it. Dean moves between Sam’s legs and runs the head of his cock over Sam’s twitching entrance. Sammy lets out a weak moan and arches against the pressure, trying to get Dean to slip inside. Dean’s about to oblige when he remembers what Cas said about them getting locked together by the Alpha’s knot once he comes, and he thinks better of their position. It will be easier to roll on to their sides and rest if he does this with Sam on his hands and knees.

He manhandles Sam into position, rolling him over, and when Sam gets the idea and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, arching his back and presenting himself to Dean like some kind of trophy, Dean can’t hold himself back any longer. He pushes his cock inside Sam slowly, agonisingly and torturously slowly. Not because he’s concerned about hurting Sam, who is opening up beneath him like he was born for this — born to take Dean’s cock — but because he knows he wants to savour this moment for the rest of his life. He wants to remember every second of the first time he felt what it was like to truly possess Sam, to be joined so completely to one another that not even their bodies can keep them separate. So Dean goes slow, even though Sam is begging beneath him, asking him to just fuck him already, Dean ignores him, and he drinks the feelings in.

When he’s got himself bottomed out inside of Sam he leans down over his brother and presses a kiss to his shoulder, tenderly, thanking him for what he’s giving Dean right now. “You feel so good Sammy,” Dean moans, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound as sappy as it does but it’s hard to regulate things like that when you feel like you’ve just connected to your soulmate for the first time, so he gives himself a pass.

The next time Sam begs, Dean gives in, snapping his hips back and fucking into him as hard as he can manage. And once he’s started he can’t stop. Every instinct inside of Dean is shouting at him to take, to fuck Sam into the mattress and never let up, which Sam doesn’t seem to mind, because no matter how roughly Dean thrusts into him he keeps shouting for more, faster, harder, please. So Dean, ever the good big brother, gives Sammy what he needs — what they both need.

Dean can feel himself getting closer and closer to his release, and that’s when he notices that he can’t quite pull out as far as before. His knot has begun swelling at the base of his cock, getting ready to pop and bind him and Sam together. The fattening edges catching on Sam’s rim give Dean a kind of friction no sex ever has before and, fucking hell, it feels unbelievably good. He grinds himself harder against Sam, dropping over his back so they can be as close as possible, and bringing his hand up beneath Sam to grasp at his little brother’s dick. It’s the first time he’s properly touched it, felt it in his hand, and shit, it feels even bigger than it looks.

“Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groans, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Dean takes that as a compliment. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, fuck, please,” Sam is pleading with him so prettily, and Dean wants to cum just as badly as him.

“Not stopping Sammy,” Dean strokes him faster, grinds into him harder, “not stopping until you cum all over my hand baby boy, so c’mon, want you to cum f’me.” Dean thanks God that Sam starts to cum loudly when Dean tells him too, because the second he feels Sam start to convulse around him his knot pops and he’s cumming harder than he ever has in his life. The thought of his seed whitewashing Sam’s insides is sickeningly thrilling and he swears a second, small orgasm rocks through him — and hey, if that’s a perk of being an Alpha, I could get used to this.

When Dean comes back to himself, his breathing finally evening out, he notices Sam slumped beneath him, no longer holding himself up. He quickly checks for a pulse, and relaxes when he finds one – Sam’s just passed out. Fuck, he came so hard he passed out. Dean shudders, feeling another small blurt of cum force itself out of his cock at the thought that he’d fucked Sam so thoroughly. To be honest he was a little proud of himself.

Dean arranges himself on his side on the bed, so he can curl around Sam while he waits for his knot to deflate. He thought he’d be annoyed by having to stay still like this for so long but it’s surprisingly peaceful, laying here with Sam asleep in his arms. He hugs his little brother tighter to him, clasping his hands over Sam’s chest – over his heart – feels the rhythm and reassures himself that Sam is here, and alive, and safe. And his. The realisation hits Dean unexpectedly. Sam is finally his in the most permanent way he can think of, and his heart leaps at the thought. The last thing he thinks before he drops off to sleep too, is that he hopes Sam still wants to be his when he wakes up.

Tags: @vulgar-library​ @tintentrinkerin​ @negans-lucille-tblr​ @fandomfic-galore​ @petitgateau911​ @whoreforackles-deactivated20210​ @schaefchenherde​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @little-diable​ @laxe-chester67​ @kassyscarlett​ @akshi8278 @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @stoneyggirl 

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Class (Carlino, 1983)

With a title like Class, I was getting a little worried. You see, with a title like Class, the movie might be a bit too...classy. Dignified. Boring. The Orion Pictures logo was cause for further concern. The studio responsible for such Oscar-winning classics as Platoon and The Silence of the Lambs is not one I wanted anywhere near a movie where a teenage dorkus gets it on with Jacqueline Bisset. Such premises are not conducive to prestige filmmaking, and there's no sense of pretending otherwise. Thankfully, within the first few minutes, the movie cured me of that notion, with a scene where Rob Lowe pranks our hero Andrew McCarthy by locking him outside the dorm in women's underwear, and McCarthy gets revenge by faking his suicide and switching out himself for a dummy of the principal for maximum embarrassment. Just some fun hijinks that everybody can get behind. And we're joined by John Cusack and Alan Ruck in early roles, calibrating their performances for maximum off-putting dweebishness. We even get a slapsticky scene with Virginia Madsen that gets the boys banned from something or other, and something Bisset calls an "instant margarita". And when the hero finally does the deed with Bisset, it's in a glass elevator, punctuated by a funny reaction from a nearby security guard. I imagine the original audience stood up and cheered at this point.

The point is, it was hitting all the beats for the kind of slightly dumbassed sexy comedy I was led to believe the movie was, but imagine I would have been more annoyed had I been fooled by its dignified facade. How much you'll enjoy this movie depends on how you approach it. If you're expecting a successor to The Graduate, which the movie seems positioned as, you'll be disappointed as it's nowhere near as good. Yes, the hero gets it on with a sexy, neurotic older woman, but I don't think it ever really taps into the anxieties of the era as astutely as the earlier movie. This is very much set in the '80s, and one of the characters speaks of the importance of free enterprise, decrying government intervention in the economy. (I assume he voted for Reagan.) It briefly touches on the problems unique to growing up in an upper class milieu, and I think there's something poignant about Lowe's insecurity about being born into a rich, successful, prominent family, but the movie does not explore them all that thoroughly. And I'll be honest, I am not of the same socioeconomic class as these characters, so when they're worried about not getting into Harvard and cheating on their SATs, I don't know how much sympathy I could muster.

But if you compare the movie to something like Private Lessons, a much dumber movie also about gettin' it on with a sexy (but not so neurotic) older woman, and you might appreciate the way it hits unexpected notes that don't reconcile so neatly into the more prurient pleasures of the premise. Casting is a big part of the movie's success. Bisset brings a certain weary, lived-in quality to her performance so that her vulnerability and her neuroses feel authentic, and not just a requirement of the plot. Lowe, as the hero's best friend, is a more charismatic alpha complement to the hero, but also allowed to be off putting as such a character can be, even when they're trying to be nice. ("Wake up, limp dick!") And I think McCarthy carries the movie nicely, managing a certain open-faced, sincere quality that makes him a good audience surrogate. I had the movie recommended to me by an internet compatriot on the strength of McCarthy's work here, and I think he was right in pointing out how McCarthy is able to imbue the role with a believable level of inexperience without it devolving to the punchline-level performance of the lead in Private Lessons. I was unmoved by McCarthy's work in Pretty in Pink and Less Than Zero, where he's outshined by flashier actors (James Spader in the former, Spader and Robert Downey Jr. in the latter). Here, his co-stars complement his better qualities.

You can see this movie is somewhat willing to confront the messier emotions that come out of the premise rather than diverting completely to dumbassed (but entertaining enough) shenanigans, and that makes it a bit more engaging than its genre demands might suggest. That being said, I don't think it quite follows through on them, and the way it ties up the central conundrum (one of the main characters exits the movie, the other two fight it out without really resolving the tension between them) is a bit halfassed.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Heat | Bakugo x Dragon!Reader

Synopsis: Due to black magic, you’re slowly turning into a mindless dragon. Bakugo has to help care for you until a cure is available and that includes dealing with your new sexual appetite. [request]

Content warning: NOT SFW, Fantasy!AU, Interspecies, rough sex

“I hate sleeping outside!”

You complained and threw another branch of dry wood onto the fire pit that centered your little camp for the night. Katsuki scoffed at your grievances as you paced in circles around the campfire.

“Well, we could have stayed in town if someone didn’t decide to steal from the fucking merchants’ guild.”

You stopped your pacing and your eyes narrowed at him. “I couldn’t help it! You know that,” you grumbled.

It wasn’t entirely your fault that you found yourself attracted to things like shiny rocks, gold, and jewels lately. When you saw such things, you couldn’t help but collect it. You told yourself it was to sell for money, but that was nowhere near the case as you kept them for yourself. You were starting to accumulate (read: hoard) quite a little treasure pile in your satchel actually. The trinket you stole wasn’t an exception.

“Besides you think he got that talisman through legal means--give me a freaking break.”

“It doesn’t matter! You don’t take it.”

You huffed and sat down in a clear spot that you finally thought good enough to settle and turned on your side. “It’s not like I want to be this way.”

With those words, Katsuki finally stopped grumbling and went to completely ignoring you. As the air filled with silence, you sighed at your unusual predicament and curled your tail around yourself.

Katsuki and you were all you’ve known ever since you were children. Orphaned by the civil war, the two of you had to rely on one another. Being forced to flee your village after another battle made that true now more than ever. When Katsuki’s new goal became to take over the country himself by following his own rule of “whoever survives makes the rules”, you knew there would be hardships, but you also knew he’d get himself killed or worse without your help.

That almost turned true when you had your first scuffle with the King’s royal enchanter. Katsuki almost ended up on the end of a spell that would chain his mind to the body of a beast had you not pushed him out the way. The asshole didn’t even say “thank you” but yelled at you for getting in the way. Thus, your adventure to take over the country sidetracked into a side quest to turn you back into a human before you completely transformed into one of the giant reptiles known as a dragon. The quicker the better, too.

Your head kept hurting with every small sound that you could never hear as a human now that your ears turned to elf-like points and your skin itched with layers of blue scales lining the front of your forearms and going up the side and back of your neck. You didn’t really mind the tiny wings fluttering at your back as much as the beginning of a slowly thickening whip-like tail and the pure white horns sticking out at your temples and curling to the back of your head like a mountain goat, the weight of which hurt your neck no matter how much you tried to whittle them down against tree trunks. Though, the worst is the strain on your and Bakugo’s relationship as he gets angrier with each passing day and added appendage you grow. He doesn’t know how much pain you’re in every time your scales spread or your teeth sharpen. You made sure to keep it a secret to keep him from worrying.

You turned back to him, already asleep with his same resting bitch face and arms crossed. Well, you hoped he was at least a little worried under all the aggression and annoyance.

You weren’t really sure what you wanted to do with your life yet since all you had focused on before was survival, but you couldn’t imagine not spending it without him once everything settled down, no matter how much you fight. He was kind when his mood was calm, and he would often show care for you and protect you. Plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t make such a bad father. You had taken care of the younger orphans before, so you were already like a mom and dad back then.

You paused, wondering where that thought came from. You squirmed, feeling warm as you thought deeper on the subject without real direction since you’re not entirely sure why you suddenly thought about that now. You only ever gave little thought to having children, but you couldn’t break the chain of knowledge that he’d probably give you handsome children, strong ones too, and it’s not like you haven’t thought about taking a spin on his cock a few times. You sat on your hands and knees, crawling as quietly as you could over to him.

Perfectly pleased you were when you gazed at him. Muscles ripping and free to gaze at thanks to his open fur cloak, fine blond spikes scattered and framing a smooth jawline and pouted pink lips. You took the dive and listened to everything that told you to touch him.

Katsuki jolted from his sleep with a groan and a hoarse curse leaving his parched throat. His moan escalated with the intense pressure on his hardened cock, and the situation made him snap his eyes open when the weight felt too real to be a dream. The sight of spiked teeth and unnaturally goldened eyes peering down on him almost earned you a punch to the throat if he hadn’t stopped his instincts from taking over. You had almost fooled him into thinking a dragon got him, the saving grace being your remaining human features calling out to him and his dick as you jerk your hips and your hooked ivory claws dig and pierce into his shoulder to draw blood.

Katsuki shoved his hand to your forehead and roughly attempted to push you away. “What the hell is wrong with you?! Get off me, (Name)!’

“Katsuki,” you huffed, frayed layers of smoke following your words, as your face sweats and creases with another weak moan. You dropped your hands and frantically go for one of his many twisting and crossing belts and cords. “I-I need to feel your cum inside me.”

His face lit red, and you felt yourself flung off in an instant, but that didn’t deter you before you hopped back into a kneeling position and attempted to climb back on top of him like an animal who tried despite their owner demanding them to stop. “I’m not about to fuck you!” Katsuki growled and shook you off again before forcing you onto your stomach and pushing his knee on your back. You whimpered with the bone digging between your shoulder blades, and Katsuki didn’t want to be rough but you kept squirming and trying to buck him back off with snarls of disapproval. “Calm down, damn it.”

Katsuki unhooked the cord around his waist and quickly used it to tie your hands together behind your back before getting off of you. You whined, violently kicking in debris as tears began to stream down your face. You heaved, wailed out, and flipped side to side like a fish out of water. Finally, you got too exhausted to keep up your violent thrashing but not before popping a few scales, breaking the tip off one of your horns, and coating yourself in red dirt and small bleeding scratches from tiny branches and rocks under you.

Katsuki gripped at his hair, panting as he watched the end of your sudden distress. He had no idea what just happened, but it was clear you needed to speed up your trip to the healer. He tied off your items to his waist and heaved you up to journey through the night.

Another four days had passed with you having your little spouts of desperate pleading for him to come over and ravage you senseless and breed with you and tantrums of aggression and violence towards him when he’d reject. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t mind being able to have sex with you; but in that state, it wasn’t anytime likely that he was going to stick his dick in you so you could revenge murder him in his sleep once you’re healed and coherent.

Katsuki finally reached the edge of your old village where he had known the healer to live when you were younger. The old healer had long passed away, but his apprentice still lived there. Any healer was better than none no matter how many times the finicky half-elf made Katsuki roll his eyes.

“Amajiki!”

There was a yelp immediately followed by the crashing of a potion vial to the floor as Katsuki kicked the door open and hauled your sleeping body onto the nearest chair. Finally, the healer turned around, tired eyes falling on Katsuki. He sighed, scratching his head through blue hair.

“Oh, it’s only you two again,” he monotonously drawled, and Katsuki glared. Then, dark eyes widened upon noticing you in the corner, and he moved to you with a speed Katsuki had never seen the halfling move. “What did you do?”

“We got into a fight with that damned Shigaraki, and it was for, never mind! It doesn’t matter,” Katsuki exhaled deeply. “I fucked up all right. Just…please fix her.”

“You don’t need to beg,” Amajiki mumbled, beginning to undo your restraints before moving you to rest on top of his work station. “How long has she been like this?”

“Almost two weeks, she was fine mentally for the first week, but lately she’s been going crazy, and I can’t get her to fucking snap out of it.”

“She’s closer to dragon than human, right now. You’re lucky she has high magic tolerance, or she would’ve turned by now,” Amajiki explained, looking over the progression of your metamorphosis.

Katsuki grimaced. He always knew he had a lack of magical ability or tolerance, not like you who used magic like it was child's play.

“Can’t you do anything for her?”

He nodded and turned to Katsuki. “I’ll give her something to slow down her change until I can make something to remove the curse, but it’s going to take a few week-ah—”

Amajiki gasped as you suddenly lifted up and pulled him down against you. Your lips immediately went to his neck, nipping and biting with a satisfied growl. Bakugo was quick to let his protectiveness and jealousy take over. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t touch her, bastard!”

“It’s not me!” Tamaki whined and tried to push you away as you passionately pressed your lips to blushing cheeks. “Please, please, g-get her off of me!”

Katsuki moved to yank you off. It was unnecessary since you instantly changed your target once you noticed Katsuki was there. You threw the healer onto the floor without a second thought and bolted yourself to Katsuki’s arm. “Katsuki,” you half cooed and half growled into his ear.

“Son of a—why the hell is she like this,” he scowled as you wrapped your arms around him and tried to hold him against your own body.

Tamaki smoothed out his clothes and wobbly stood back on to his feet. “Mating season started, and she’s in heat right now. I can give her something to calm her down a little, but you…well…someone needs to take “care” of it soon.”

Katsuki scoffed, tossing that idea. “Just tell her to do it herself,” he demanded as he held you at arm’s length.

“She’s not really in a state of mind right now. Dragons need to be induced or they stay in heat like ferrets. If her heat is extended too long, it can kill her before I finish the recipe.”

Dropping his arm, Katsuki’s lips trembled into a scowl, then he asked you, “Do you really need me to fuck you that badly?” You seemed to pick up on the idea, clung him tighter, and seductively crooned at him with a lightly rumbling purr. “Then, just don’t be pissed at me afterward!”

You blinked at him and nod flippantly.

“I’ll get started in here, you can use the room in the back,” Amajiki offered, inwardly drowning in the despair at the thought of having to burn the sheets afterward.

Katsuki dragged you to the room in question the entire way repeating, “Just for healing…just for healing…” Fuck. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. He didn’t know if it was because he really wanted to have sex with you or because he suspected you would avoid him after. Probably both.

When you got in the room, you pushed him down on the bed without any restraint. Your lips instantly melded to his in a sloppily passionate kiss that made him groan from deep in his throat at you mounted on top of him. Sharp teeth pulled at the delicate curves of his lips, drawing blood that you happily slid your tongue over to taste before moving to his neck with as much fervor and need highlighting every kiss over his bobbing Adam’s apple. He tilted his head up, letting you have free reign to mark and litter his skin with deep purpling bruises as he wrapped his arms around the small of your back.

Despite the scales lining around your back, your stomach and underbelly remained fairly soft and fleshy, leaving your breasts softly hugging to his own firm chest, but it was the eager grinding on his lap that had him moaning.

“Damn, you’re already this excited,” he choked out as you pressed down on his budding boner. Katsuki was beginning to wonder how much of this was you because you didn’t nearly go after Amajiki this compulsively. You seemed extra obsessed on attaching to him. “You really want me to breed you, huh?” You moaned in agreement, a smile drawing against him. Suddenly, he grasped onto your horns and pulled your head back towards your back as he sat up. “You ready to take my cock, aren’t ya? You’ve been begging for it all damn week, but you wanted it before then, haven’t you?”

Katsuki yanked your head back and kissed your collar with rough lips and down the center of your upper chest, stopping only where your clothes didn’t allow him to feel the warmth of your skin. He released your horns and grasped your neck with both hands, dragging his palms down.

“Katsuki, hah, hah,” you whined as your scales prickled and pulled with the strokes of his fingers over the tiny edges. “inside, it’s hot,” you barely strung together the words, but he could pick up on what you meant as you whimpered for his cum to douse the heat built inside you.

“My cock is loaded with cum for you. It’s more than enough to fill your womb.”

Katsuki pulled at his belts, never breaking eye contact with you as you hungrily waited for him to get undressed while snatching off your own robes. Smallclothes were already out for you because of your tail, so you were completely bare and ready as your impatiently watched him finally tug down his pants and his thick cock sprung free, ready and dripping with the first beginning of fresh precum dripping down his rounded head.

“If you want it, you’ll get on your hands and knees," he said to reduce the chance of you clawing him and nudged you to flip you over. He shoved your tail up and out of the way and cup your engorged pussy. He could feel the intense heat radiating from you. He slid his fingers inside your, curling them along your slick saturated inner walls. His fingers nearly slipped out at first go with how wet you were, and a waterfall of wetness oozed out and down his hand as he stretched his fingers inside of you. Katsuki added a third and fourth then begins to move his palm inside you, stopping at the junction of his thumb and pointer fingers, and you take it all with a pleased growl as he twisted his palm in your needy core.

Katsuki moves his hand, replacing it with his cock. He slid his tip against your opening, and you jerked back towards him, desperate to have it inside of you and spraying your insides with his seed.

He chuckled at your whine. “I’ll give it to you, just wait,” he teased and stroked his head in and out of your entrance, teasing the nerves around it with the plump tip of his member.

“Katsuki, ngh, put it in,” you grumbled, smoke coming from your mouth, and he swallowed hard before giving in to your demands before you really got pissed.

He thrusted into you once then pulled all the way out and thrusted again. Katsuki held in his moan as your velvet walls slid around him and enveloped him. Your body was on fire, more so than anything he’s felt. He gripped your waist, thrusting into you with increased speed, his lap bouncing against your rounded ass.

Your nail dugs into the mattress, ripping through the fabric and revealing fluffy down and strands of cloth as your body jerked with his pumps and the room filled with wet slaps and your own growls and low blowing of tiny flickering flames and smoke from your mouth with each pant. It wasn’t until Katsuki gripped your horns, pulled your head and pumped into your innermost wall with an aggressive rut of his hips that you roared in complete pleasure and pain as the pain echoed through your head with the straining of your neck and scalp.

Your tail kept swooping, hitting on the side of his hip, and he hissed with the sting of scales slapping his skin and leaving red welts along his muscular thighs. Katsuki returned your hits with a sharp upward thrust that made you whine and your pussy clench.

It was with a loud mewl that you came around his cock, your fluids escaping in droves down your legs and staining the sheets with the ever-rushed drive of throbbing meat taking your body. It was when he released inside, and his semen coated you inside and out that coolness finally rushed through you, and you dropped your head to the pillow as he stilled deep inside of you before pulling out with a slime trail of cum seeping from your cunt.

You collapsed onto your side with a drawn out, “mm” before cuddling into ripped sheets and piles of cotton. Katsuki shook his head and petted your own. “Feeling better?”

Opening your eyes, you turned to face Katsuki and tackled him to the bed again.

“Fuck, wait damn it, it’s not ready!” he griped as you straddled him and clawed at his chest. You wrapped your hand around his cock and your mouth around his nipple.

With the growl you released, he knew you didn’t particularly care and that he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

—————————extended ending————————

Katsuki hissed as Tamaki slathered his back wounds with healing salve. You had dug all the way into his shoulders and dragged your hands down to the small of his back this time around. They left zigzagging patterns down his back and flared bright red like a beacon on his back, and now it kept hurting every time he stood straight.

“Why hasn’t she changed back yet?” Katsuki demanded to know because at this rate you were going to bleed him dead if not make his dick fall off from soreness and chafing. It had been another two weeks, and Tamaki had given you the potion over two days ago.

“The potion only strips the curse. It doesn’t reverse what’s already happened. She’s going to look like that from now on, but you won’t have to worry about her turning into a dragon completely. Other than having some behaviours like what you’ve seen, she’ll be fine,” Amajiki explained as he finished patching Katsuki’s wounds.

Katsuki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to face the healer. “When is this heat going to end then so I can tell her?”

Amajiki paused, quirking his head. “I already told her, she said it’s fine.”

Katsuki scowled.

“What are you talking about? Have you not seen these fucking claw marks! She’s still loopy as hell.”

Amajiki shook his head. “Mating season ended a few days ago, and she seemed coherent when I talked to her the other day.”

Katsuki blinked owlishly at him before scrunching his face with annoyance. You heard the echoes of his scream from your comfortable, relaxed position in bed, and your eyes widened with the knowledge you were caught. “(Name), you fucking faker!”

[sif-the-tsunami]

Sometime the best present is presence.

Hey y’all. Happy holidays guys, this is my participation in @toomanystoriessolittletime​ Christmas story challenge. I am not a super happy happy joy joy kind of a holiday person, so I hope maybe some of my fellow “I can’t handle forced holiday cheer” people can relate to this a little bit. 

The prompt is with Henry Cavill and last Christmas by Wham.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC Ellie

Word count: 2600

Content warning, language, adult situation, the least smutty smut I could manage, talks of infertility treatment, pregnancy, depression, I’m sorry if I missed anything.

Picture found on google

There were two things that Henry knew for certain to expect from his lover once the Holiday season rolled around, the first was that he knew that their shared kitchen would almost always smell like sage and cinnamon, and that her depression would take a nose dive. This was going to be their fourth Christmas together and he was prepared. Every year since she moved over to the UK to be with him,  Christmas Eve, they would go out and grab a pizza, come back to the house, and spend the evening watching Christmas movies in new pajamas. Henry would keep the hot cocoa flowing and the snacks supplied. Christmas morning, Ellie would make the most amazing breakfast, things from his childhood and hers, the three of them (including Kal) would open presents and the afternoon would be spent in Middle Earth with take out for dinner. Boxing Day was spent with his mom and dad. The break would be carefully planned for as few social obligations as possible.

Life was running full tilt in its normal chaos, Henry was filming for the next few weeks and Ellie went back to working on her novel. One of the techs on set told him about a game that he and his friends were planning on playing this holiday season. Henry looked up from his phone and asked about the rules. It seems simple enough. The game will be just enough of a distraction to keep her mind off the doctor’s appointment pending that he knew she was concerned about. And maybe his mum would come up for a couple of days to help keep her occupied. The matriarch was nothing, if not considerate of his partners mental health.

When he came home that night, the smell of her cooking hits him like a ton of bricks. The warm earthy scents of caramelizing onions, roasting garlic and he knows some kind of bird… it wouldn’t be duck. Is it Cornish game hens? But there are definitely potatoes involved as well. He swears that he can get some kind of hint of apple pie.

“Baby, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He asks as he comes into the warm kitchen. Out from the oven, she pulls out Brussel sprouts with thick batons of pork belly, seasoned with roasted garlic, and another serving dish of crispy potatoes was sitting on the counter. On the stove top, was a concoction of apples and onions, browning together in butter and fennel. On the table, making Kal ignore Henry all together, was a beautifully roasted chicken, spatchcocked on her favorite wooden cutting board, the skin was a deep golden brown. Had anyone else made that array of of food, he would have thought they were crazy, however he had thought that Ellie had the Force or something like it when it came to cooking. She could pull a bizarre array of foodstuffs together and create a hero’s feast. She had managed to turn instant noodles into a meal fit for a king before his eyes in their early dating months. Amazing meals were her super power.

Her face lit up as he walked into the kitchen. “Well, it was a good brain day.”

“I’m glad, my darling,” Dinner was set a few minutes later. Sitting together at the table, they dug into their feast.

“I will never understand how you can get the skin so crisp, but this meat is so juicy. What kind of witchcraft is this?” He asks after half the chicken has been picked clean by him alone. “And you have absolutely ruined me for other peoples sprouts, you know that right?”

Ellie leaned back in her chair, smiling like the cat who caught the canary. “I’m glad you like that, it was the last of my smoked pork belly though. Some time in January, I want to make some more again. Maybe cure my own bacon again.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Knowing that if she was planning on smoking other meats that he could probably talk her into smoking some ribs for him. “So speaking of good ideas. I want to challenge you to a game.”

“A game, you say? What kind of game?” She raised her eyebrow in curiosity.

“A survival game, the best kind of survival game in fact, because we can challenge our friends to it and this will go on in perpetuity.”

“Go on.” Looking at him like he’s going mad, but loving watching him get animated like this.

“It is called, wait for it… Whamagedon.” He says with the biggest smile.

“Whamagedon?”

“Yes, Whamagedon. Do you remember Rick Rolling? It is like that, but with the song “Last Christmas,” by Wham.”

“What are the rules?”

“I want to set a group text up, me, you, my brothers, fuck it we can even add Ben to it. Maybe even your sister. When we go out and about, the idea is if we hear the song we are out of the game. And the best part is after you are out of the game it is called Whamhalla and we can try to sabotage the others. And it can only be the Wham version.”

“It would get us in and out of the stores faster, probably.”

“I view that as a bonus.” He said leaning back, satiated by dinner and the idea he had been brewing all evening. “What do you say?”

“Sounds good to me, but we can not sabotage each other.”

“Absolutely not. Although I might make an Instagram post if I’m out of the game before Christmas Eve.”

“You are a chaotic goblin, you know that right?”

He just nods, his face is lit up like a child in on a secret. “Now what do you say if we go run ourselves a nice hot bath before bed. I feel like this cold is seeping into my old man bones.”

***

It was the beginning of December when Henry came home from the grocery store that afternoon, he heard the sobbing as soon as he dropped off the bags in kitchen. He rushed through the house to find her in the bathtub, Ellie was cradling her head in her hands. Kal whined, nudging her with his cold wet nose and slowly wagged his tail as she whispered, “I know bud, I love you too. Mommy is just sad today baby, it’s okay.”

Kal looked at his daddy in the doorway, he looked like he was trying to say ‘Dad, fix her.’ Ellie soon looked up too. The face he adored more than any others was puffy from crying. “I’m sorry hun, I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Elle, what happened?” he asked, sitting down on the floor next to her. Henry smiled a little at her, he planted kisses on the back of the hand that he held.

Ellie tilted her head down, and the tears started again. She said it so quietly that he almost didn’t hear her. “Miranda just found out she’s pregnant.”

“Your friend from back home?” Without looking at him, she nodded once. “Do you know how long they were trying?”

“They weren’t. She called me this morning and told me the news. She’s so happy, its all she’s ever wanted. And I really am so happy for her.” Her voice cracked again. Henry rubbed her back as she struggled to take a deep breath. “About two minutes after she hung up I started cramping like I’m about to start my period. I… I feel like I’m failing you. My body is failing you. I even do the fucking thing that I was made to be able to do.”

She started to sob, curling herself into a ball, and wrapped her arms around her knees. His heart ached for the woman he loved.

“My darling, my sweetling, you have not failed me. Your body has not failed me.” He lifted himself up off the floor, “I’m going to go put the things that need to stay cold away, and I will be right back.”

Moments later he was back and stripping off his clothes from the day. Elle gazed upon him in love and awe. “Get that water nice and hot again, I’m coming in.”

She started draining the currently tepid bathwater right away. Henry handed her cold bottle of her favorite beer, and had one for himself. She then stayed in the middle of the tub as he climbed in behind her. He dropped a lavender, chamomile and vanilla scented bath bomb between her legs as he settled in.  She leaned back against his body, as her ran his fingers against her soft skin.

“What if I can’t give you a baby, Hen?”

“We could steal one. We will find a mummy with more kids than she can keep track of, and I’ll drive the car by really slow and we will lure one of them in with the promise of sweeties and puppies.” He teased her. The resulting giggle was worth the dark humor occasionally.

“I’m being serious, ya dick.” Her laugh was always magical to him. She took a long swing of her beer.

“Who said I wasn’t being serious. Would I love to have a mess of children, yes. However, I love you more than whatever hypothetical situation I’ve had before we met. You make me so incredibly happy.”

“Even on the bad days like this...”

“Yes, even on the bad days. Are you worried about going back to the clinic?” He kissed the back of her head. This would be the fourth round of IUI treatments. The shuddering breath she let out let Henry know he was correct. “We don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to.”

“If we are not successful this next time, I think I want to take a break from trying. At least for a while. I need to do something to help myself. I don’t think I can handle it on my own.”

“Okay, my love. We will get you the help you need.”

“I hope so. But in the mean time, I want to just spend the night being bummed out. Is that okay?”

Henry lathered up her wash cloth with her favorite smelling soap, getting the silk smooth suds down her back, tracing her shoulders and down her chest. “Does that mean we are having Chinese for dinner?”

“You know me so well.” She sighed, resting her head on him as he ran his hands up and down her body. She had stopped shaking but the tears still ran down her face. She nuzzled her face into his neck so he decided to rest his cheek on her head.  He lovingly washed her body and while the water was still steaming she rolled over to face him. Straddled on his hips, she ran her hands over his body, leaning into giving him hungry kisses.

The love he poured into her was always returned to him. His body asked hers to show him how much she needed him, the tears on her cheeks this time were from pleasure as she came. He followed her into bliss shortly after.

“I need more of you,” he whispered between kisses. They drained the tub, and dried each other off with soft fluffy towels. He picked her up from her hips and carried her to the bed, placing her down on their bed. If the first session was strengthening their connection, this time was carnal pleasure. Throaty I love yous whispered to one another, sealed with passionate kisses.

Afterwards, still a tangle of legs and sheets, they placed an order for their favorite take out. The two cocooned themselves from the world until their dinner arrived. Ellie, although absentmindedly pushed her food around with her chopsticks, seemed alright for now.

My love, please don’t go where I can’t follow. He thought.  Please, don’t push us all away while you suffer by yourself again.

***

Since the beginning of December, his plan worked. She would tease him about close calls. They would go in and out of stores as quickly as they could. The group chat they had going would go off sporadically and half the family was out within the first week. When he wasn’t working, he noticed that Ellie was sleeping more than normal, but he didn’t want to say anything to her. She sometimes wouldn’t text him back for hours if she took a nap in the middle of the day. Her publisher however seemed happy with the revisions they were making towards the high fantasy novel. Her second book would be published that coming spring. His mom had come up and visited, helping Ellie get some of the house ready for them to go back to Jersey until after the new year. They ran errands together, she helped Ellie with her annual purge for donations around the house, and generally just tried to keep her busy.  

Their last day in London was also their appointment with the fertility doctor. Getting all set up in the exam room, Henry held her hand. A nurse came in to take a blood sample and made small talk. Very faintly in the back they could here Christmas music coming from the reception area. Henry could already tell that the next half an hour was going to drag, and Ellie’s hands were starting to shake harder from the anticipation. It was maybe ten minutes in when suddenly his lover groans in disgust.

“Well fuck...” She mutters. And then the lyrics of some of the music starts registering to him.

With a note saying, "I love you, " I meant it Now, I know what a fool I've been But if you kissed me now I know you'd fool me again

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day you gave it away This year, to save me from tears I'll give it to someone special

“oh, of fucking course it plays now.” He chuckles at her. Henry starts to giggle a little bit. Seeing him lose composure, Ellie starts to as well. The giggle morphs into laugh then into hysterics. The two of them were cackling like hyenas when the nurse popped by in, wiping tears from their eyes and he knows one of them snorted.

“The doctor is running a little late, she wants you to get into this paper gown, she’s going to have to do a pelvic exam.” The nurse tells them quickly, dropping the items off, clearly not impressed by the two of them.

“I don’t I have had an exam for one of these before.” Ellie thinks out loud still laughing. She undressed quickly, throws on the gown and sits on the exam table. “We needed that laugh, though. I feel a little better.”

“Oh yeah, this has been stressful.” he nodded.

The doctor came in and did her formal greetings. “So I have a sinking suspicion but I want to take a look at you first.”

Henry politely averts his eyes while the doctor performs the exam, until she started talking again. “Well it looks like we aren’t going to be giving you the injection to stimulate your ovaries today, Ellie. The blood test showed that you are pregnant, I want to feel your uterus and yeah, you have a fetus in there. You are about three weeks pregnant. Congrats guys, you beat the odds.”

Ellie and Henry sat in the exam room in shocked silence until the doctor left.