#just wanna be the words they are such Good words

[cutiefulism]

puppyboy!caleb who just wants to fuck a litter into u :((

cw — breeding (dadoy), use of gege, typical caleb activities except hes a germand shepard, pet names (baby, honey, wife but theyre not married). fluffy prequel here.

he thinks you should have known. all the signs were right there, practically jingling in your face.

“did you— mm . . really think i’d invite you over for somethin’ as harmless as a common cold?”

he knows you won’t respond verbally. can’t respond, he thinks, not when his hips are slamming against your juicy ass, cock filling you up to the brim after his fingers and mouth worked so hard to stretch you out.

and even that hadn’t been enough. he still had to go reaaaal slow, ease it into that filthy, drooling hole, and by then he was just so impatient that he couldn’t wait any longer! :p

caleb will be gentle next time, he promises.

saliva and tears dribble down your chin, rolling down your chest and onto his sheets, and he wishes he could lean forward to lap it all up with his tongue. instead, he nuzzles into the side of your tainted neck, pressing little loving pecks against reddened skin as if to make up for the brutal way he’s splitting you open.

“y-yer just so gullible, baby. always takin’ your gege’s word for fact.”

you attempt to shake your head, a few, rare pieces of coherent thought stringing together enough to actually speak. “ungh, ngh! n-no, ‘m not . . not dumb.”

look at you. stubborn as always, ready to defend yourself and your beliefs at a moment’s notice. it’s cute.

“of course you aren’t,” caleb coos with a breathy chuckle, and he takes your soft, warm skin into his mouth, sucking another bruise to join the others. “never said you were. you’re a smart girl. my smart girl, and that’s exactly why i have to breed you.”

he feels the way your velvety walls clamp down on his aching cock at his words, and he grins. he knows all of your little weak protests earlier were fake.

all those “but, caleb, i don’t think it’s a good idea, we’re not even married” and “i’m just not ready yet” and “we’re both so busy, how will we have time for the baby?”

that was all bullshit.

you want this. you know you do, and caleb definitely knows you do.

you’re just in denial. but don’t worry — he’ll fuck that out of you.

“it’s o-only right to— shit–” plap ��spread my wife’s beauty and smarts–” plap “to the rest of the world, right?”

caleb slams forward, hips stilling for a moment as he whimpers against your bitten-up neck, and a desperate mewl leaves your own lips as the impact lunges you forward.

his weeping tip is smooching your cervix, ready to pump a load into your temporarily empty womb.

“say . . say you want it.”

you blink, brows drawing together as you try to focus through the drunken haze. “w-wha?”

“say you want my cum, say you wanna be a mommy f’me,” he groans, and despite the low roughness of his voice, you can hear that almost pathetic pleading underneath.

and how could you deny caleb like this?

your head bobs, throat dry. “i wan’ it. please, caleb. fill . . fill me up.”

that’s all he needs.

caleb’s thick tail gives a happy thump against the sheets as his hips start up again, this pace much more demanding than the previous. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be trying to fuck you into the mattress.

“thaaaat’s it,” he sighs, and all you can do is squeal as the bed creaks and rocks beneath you. “lemme stuff this pretty pussy full, honey.”

“i’ll . . f-fuck, ngh— give you as many pups as ya want. a whole . . a whole fucking football team—!” his words break off into a whine when you clamp down on him again, and he already knows what’s going to happen before you even try to say it.

this time, you really can’t speak. all you can do is moan and attempt silly, broken cries of his name, pleasure coiling to a fever pitch in your gut.

he knows you better than you know yourself, after all.

“mmf, a-ah, ‘m cumming— c-caleb!”

his name sounds so beautiful on your lips, like a siren’s call to his heavy, tightening balls and twitching dick.

within seconds of you gushing all over his cock, squirt spraying all over that dark, almost curly patch of pubic hair, his hips are stuttering, pretty violet eyes rolling back as he mumbles your name again and again like a damn prayer.

caleb dumps thick ropes of gooey seed into your warm, waiting womb and, oh, it is so much. much more than you expected, and it feels . . good.

a small bulge appears on your tummy where caleb has stuffed you to your limit, and you’re sure it’s going to leak out, make an even bigger mess all over your sheets.

the knot at the base of his girth swells, trapping his cum inside, and even if caleb had the traitorous thought of pulling out of you, he couldn’t.

even his basic biology knows that a single drop can’t and won’t go to waste.

he whines, hot, damp breath ghosting across your skin as he shoves his face into your neck again, that feral need mostly disappearing. you can feel his chest heaving in time with your own against your back, fluffy ears twitching.

“i’ll make up to you for rounds four and five, how about that?”

“l-let’s take a small break, okay? ‘m sorry for bein’ so rough on you, baby,” he mumbles, and your heart gives a helpless flutter at the genuine guilt in his tone.

you’ve never quite gotten used to his flips in personality.

doing gradients is actually hell on earth wtf

[slapmeshigaraki]

biiig stretch

♡ pairings: rafayel, caleb x reader

♡ warnings: spit, condescension, slight dumbification, dirty talk, uhhhh caleb is a little grosser than i intended in this, both boys are pretty mean, feet, daddy, fingering, pussy eating, crying but like in a sexy way, mentions of overstimulation, one singular pussy slap, begging, barely proof read i wrote this shit at like 1am

♡ summary: how they handle a 'tight fit'

♡a/n: uhhhh these are a little mean so i apologize,, i was feral when i wrote this idk. also y'all pray for me for my midterms,, it's not looking too good rn lmaoo. enjoy lovelies xx

୨୧ rafayel ୨୧

"Angel, if you don't relax, it's not gonna fit." The mans voice was a soft whisper into your ear, his hot breath gently caressing your skin as his wandering hands explored every inch of your insides. Two of Rafayel's fingers were jammed into your drooling pussy, your juices soaking his palm with every movement that he made past your entrance. You were gripping him so tightly--too tightly now, your entire body tensing up as he tried to slide another finger inside of you.

"Don't be nervous--'m gonna take good care of you, yeah? Just gotta stretch this sweet little pussy open a bit before she can take my cock, right? You trust me, don't you?" Your thighs couldn't help but to weaken as you felt him place sloppy, wet kisses against the crook of your neck, his saliva dripping across your flesh as he toyed with your aching clit with his thumb.

"Y-yes, I trust you."

"Good. Then calm down for me, okay? Show me you can be good--let me inside." You could feel his soft lips form a smile against your skin as he squeezed a third digit inside of you, reveling in the way your body took him in so nicely. His free hand made its way to your mouth, two of his fingers tapping against your cheek, signaling for you to part your lips as he whispered into your ear once more, "Open up this hole for me too--fuckkk, good job, baby. Taking all of my fingers so well. You look so pretty when you get filled, does it feel good, angel girl?" All you could manage was a few muffled moans against his fingers as he jammed them further into your throat, matching the same intensity as the digits inside your other hole now.

"You gonna cum on my fingers again already? That's okay, don't hold it back. This pussy's gonna be so lubed up for me, making so many sweet juices. That's it cum for me, it's okay. I got you--" With no more than a couple pumps of his fingers inside of you, slamming against your g-spot with ease, and his filthy words fogging up your brain, your were cumming. He quickly pulled his fingers from your mouth, desperate to hear your moans uninhibited. The way you sang for him--god, he was so hungry to hear it again.

"Good fucking girl, so good for me, making a mess all over my fingers. You wanna try that on my cock next time, hm?" A fithy squelching sound rang in your ears as he slid his fingers out of your cunt, cream coating his hand as he readjusted himself, lining his wet and aching tip up with your hole.

"Wanna cum on your cock, but I don't think it's gonna fit." Your voice quivered as you felt Rafayel's hot flesh pressed against yours. You raised your head off the pillow a little, attempting to look down at the scene, but you were quickly interrupted.

"Shhh..." A soft kiss was pressed to your cheek, his hand gripping the side of your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Don't look down. Eyes on me, pretty girl. It's only gonna hurt for a second, okay? Just a little while and then I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good. I promise, angel." He was painfully hard, the wetness from his precum coating your lips as he slowly slid himself against you, brushing against your clit with every motion. He wanted nothing more than to force himself inside of you, to feel your gooey walls milking him, to hear the way you whined against him as he muffled your noises with his lips, forcing you to moan into his mouth--but he restrained himself.

"It's gonna hurt more if you don't relax a bit for me, baby. You don't need to be scared, you're already stretched open, remember? It's just the tip right now, but you gotta' tell me you can take it before I try to push it in." His other fingers, still coated in your cum were back on your clit now, slowly working your pussy just the way you liked as he continued rubbing his thick length against you. You'd seen it before, felt it through his pants, had it in your throat countless times, but this was different. You could barely fit him in your mouth for weeks, the feeling of taking him to the back of your throat brought tears to your eyes every time, so the thought of having to take him, all of him, inside of your cunt had your stomach in knots...but you wanted to feel him so bad, to see the way his angelic face contorted as he sung your praises, to have your hole clenching around his cock, to feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of you after he'd stuffed you full.

"Yes...want you to put it in. Promise I can take it." His lips met yours finally, pulling you in for a deep kiss, his tongue forcing yours into submission, desperately trying to keep you focused on anything other than the stretching sensation of his grithy cock squeezing between your walls. You whined out against his mouth, the pleasure of his fingers on your clit mixed with the subdued pain of his mushroom head inside of your tight cunt was enough to make you squirm beneath him. You had this man's mouth watering, your nimble fingers clawing against his back, leaving reddened marks on his skin as you softly moaned out his name. He'd never felt anything so good--so warm, so fucking wet in his entire life. He pulled his mouth back from yours, forcing your eyes to flutter open and lock with his once more, your lips swollen from the earlier attack.

"You took that so fucking good...my sweet girl." He kept playing with your clit, leaving little moans to slither out of your mouth as his other hand forced your leg down against the bed, the weight of his body leaving you completely exposed. "Now you have to trust me again, yeah? I'm gonna put the rest in now and you just have to take it okay...you promised me you would take it for me."

"Wait--no no I can't--"

"I can't wait any longer--fuck--I gotta feel this pussy wrapped around my whole cock. Just take a deep breath for me, okay?" You had no time left to protest before the stinging sensation overtook your body, the stretch bringing tears to your eyes, as the man whispered in your ear, "Biiig stretch...sorry angel, but look, you took it so good--like you were made to take my fucking cock. My perfect pretty girl."

"Feel so full, Rafayel," you whined and whimpered as he slowly rocked his hips back and forth into you, giving you time to adjust to his length after shoving it all in so brutally.

"I know baby, I know. No more tears...just feel good for me now." He continued pressing sloppy kisses onto your skin, his thumb sliding back down between your bodies, finding your clit with ease as he slowly rubbed tiny circles, his entire hand sticky with your wetness. You were back to moaning his name in no time, begging for more.

"See, angel...I told you I'd make it better, yeah? I'm sorry I had to hurt you. Now close your eyes and let me show this pussy some appreciation...she opened up so fucking well for me. It's the least I could do."

୨୧ caleb ୨୧

"Come on baby, give me one more. Let me taste you again." His voice was low, groaning as he looked up at you from between your plush thighs, his big rough hands kneading your flesh as his fat tongue cupped your pussy.

"No more, please just fuck me."

"Wow, you get fucking nasty when you wanna cum, huh? What's wrong, mama? You don't like my tongue?" You didn't answer, the overwhelming pleasure clouding your brain as your hole clenched around nothing, forcing more and more juices out and into Caleb's mouth. He knew just how to make you cum, and he had been mercilessly utilizing this skill for the last hour, the stimulation had been bringing tears to your eyes as he softly sucked your clit, lips latching onto your sensitive nub as his muscled arms pinned you in place.

"Answer me when I ask you a question." Without warning Caleb's grip on your thigh was gone, the warm feeling of his tongue against your cunt soon replaced by a harsh smack to your clit. You screamed out, the surprise of the stinging pain effortlessly catching you off guard.

"Fuck yes I like your tongue. Just--I just wanna feel you...please Caleb."

"Can't fuck you if you can't listen when I'm talking to ya'. Gotta focus for me for just a little longer, okay? Just need you a little bit wetter, wanna see this pussy dripping all over the bed." Caleb was fucking mean when he got like this, pupils dialated, mouth salivating at the taste of you, his hips rutting against the edge of the bed as he shoved his tongue past your tight entrance as you cursed under your breath. It took no time for you to cum again, hips rising off of the mattress, bucking into Caleb's face as he used his weight to press you back down--not wanting to give you the chance to escape his tongue before he was ready.

"Fuckkk you taste so good--so fucking sweet, I could eat this pussy all day."

"No no no please I need to feel you inside of me. I want your dick so bad." Caleb was elated, violet eyes widened in surprise at the disgusting words that were coming out of such a pretty mouth--he'd corrupted you and he liked it.

"Yeah? You want me to stretch that little pussy out, hm?" He couldn't hide the sinister grin that was slowly spreading across his lips as you moaned and begged for his dick inside of you, it made his balls ache just at the thought of watching you try to take all of him inside...he'd dreamed of this moment a million times before.

You watched him, subconsciously biting your lips as he slowly slid his fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts, pulling them down, letting his thick cock spring free. He was so hard, you could practically see his length throbbing as he reached for your hand, placing your delicate fingers around his shaft. "Don't be scared of it, mama. It's not gonna bite--just stroke it for me, okay? Get used to the way it feels in your hand first." You were immediately taken aback at the sheer size of his dick. You'd never seen it before, only felt it through his pants when he'd tell you to come sit on his lap after a long day or when it'd press against the small of your back while he rubbed himself into you as you two cuddled in bed. He was so responsive to your touch, his toned abs tensing and shivering each time he felt your thumb run across the sensitive tip of his cock, relishing in the way his precum was soiling your fingertips as you fisted his length. "Shittt...your fingers are so fucking soft. Wait wait wait, hands off--fuck" The sight of Caleb quivering beneath your touch was intoxicating, his sweaty body glistening, lips still wet with your juices as he licked and bit his bottom lip, desperately trying not to let any moans escape; it only made you want to touch him more, faster, harder. A few more seconds and your hand would be covered in his cum, but just before he was about to lose all composure, you felt him grip your wrist, snatching your fingers away from him.

"When I say hands off--" He was gripping you tightly now, pushing you back down onto the bed, forcing your arms above your head as he growled into your ear, pressing his full length against your soft tummy, "I mean take your fucking hands off."

"Are you that big of a whore that you can't follow instructions? Just want my cum any way you can get it, huh? Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you what you want." His big hand effortless held both of your ankles together, pressing your thighs into your stomach, folding you in half and giving him a full view of your soaking heat. You couldn't help but to moan out his name as he slid himself between your lips, his thick cock brushing against your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, coating himself in your juices.

"Say my name..." It was a plea, a desperate request moaned out above the sound of your whines.

"Caleb...please."

"Nuh uh, you know that's not what I want to hear. Come on pretty girl, lemme hear you say it. Beg for me. I fucking need it." You knew exactly what he'd wanted and under any other circumstances, the embarrassment probably would've made you hide your face in your hands, cheeks burning from the humiliation, but you were so fucking wet and needy that it hurt--you'd do anything, say anything just to feel him.

"Please daddy... I want you inside of me." He took a sharp inhale as the words left your lips, groaning in pleasure, shutting his eyes tightly to keep himself from cumming on the spot. You soon felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, slowly forcing itself inside of your hole, but it was a much tighter fit than you'd initially thought. He wrapped his arm around your legs now, biceps flexing, veins enlarged, forcing your soft thighs against his chest, exposing your clit so his free hand could spread your lips apart, giving him an even better view.

"Baby...you're too tensed. I'm not gonna be able to get inside if you don't loosen this pussy up for me a little bit. You gotta' relax for daddy," You couldn't even respond before you felt a streak of wetness across your leg, his tongue licking from your knee all the way to your ankle.

"I'm gonna try something, yeah? Don't freak out, okay? Just let it feel good. Be a big girl and trust me for a second. Daddy promises it's gonna feel so fucking good. Just close your eyes." You did, and almost immediately, a wave of pleasure washed over you as you felt that same wetness swipe across the sole of your foot, one of your manicured toes being gently sucked into the man's mouth. The second he heard a gasp leave your lips, he pushed the tip in. "Good girl... so fucking sweet for me. That's it--i'm gonna put the rest of it in, okay, just keep feeling good for me and I'm gonna rub your little clit faster." The pace of his fingers quickened, his mouth continuing to lick and suck on every inch of your foot as the vibrations from his moans tickled your flesh. You opened your eyes now, meeting his gaze--you both looked fucking filthy, covered in each other's sweat, bodies entangled as he forced the rest of himself between your tight walls. "Fuckkkk there we go...biiig stretch, shittt. You look so pretty like this, sweet little hole sucking my dick so good. I'm gonna be still for a second, yeah? Let you get used to it." He really did want to give you time to adjust, but he just couldn't stay still, every subtle shiver or twitch of his body made you wriggle around beneath his grasp until you just couldn't fucking take it anymore.

"Daddy... please. I need you to move." A sigh of relief fell from his lips... a minute longer and he would've came inside of you without warning. He wasted no time rocking his hips into you slowly, stretching you with every small movement. He placed his big hand on your stomach, admiring the way he could see his bulge through your flesh.

"You feel me right here? I'm so fucking deep inside you--you're taking it like a fucking champ. My pretty girl... I swear I'm gonna get you fucking pregnant."

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Chris can't fuck you in his balloon-filled room, but he needs you so bad.

Warnings: Smut, BIG DICK CHRIS, raw p n v, sucking fingers, GETTING CAUGHT, creampie, BULGE KINK.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Loud squelches echo through the living room. Chris is between your legs, pounding into you as you lay on the couch. 

“Fuck—shut up, baby. Bein’ too damn loud,” he husks, the grip he has on your legs getting tighter. 

The position you're in is unbearably good. Every inch of his length is buried inside your dripping heat, your stomach bulging while he continues to drill himself into you. 

“-’m sorry, I—,” the words are muffled as he places a hand over your mouth. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel his tip graze that spot—the spot that made it impossible to do anything but scream in pleasure. 

Chris huffs, the feeling of your warm, wet walls clenching around him making it harder to contain himself. He wants to pound you even harder, he needs nothing but to see you absolutely destroyed under his touch—but he knows he can’t. 

Not when you’re in the living room—Matt and Nick only a short couple steps away from seeing such a lewd scene. 

“Shit!” Chris hisses, biting on his lip as he tries to muffle his own noises. But it’s so hard. This is absolute bliss, everything he needed and more. 

It’s not his fault his brother decided to pull some fuck ass prank, filling his room with balloons and not even offering to help clean it up. He couldn’t hold himself back when you came over in that one skirt—the skirt that drove him beyond insane. 

The second you had bent over, giving him just the smallest glimpse—there was no holding back. He needed you right then, dragging you up to the living room and distracting you from the worry of being in plain sight. 

“Chris! Chris!” 

Your screams are still muffled by his hand. You feel his fingers dip into your mouth, immediately sucking on the digits while his hips plunge deep—making everything go a hot flash of white as you feel yourself toppling closer and closer towards the edge. 

“C’mon,” he husks, sucking on your neck as some sort of method to keep himself from groaning loudly. You just feel so fucking good. “-give it to me—wanna feel you cum all over my big dick, sweetheart,” 

He lets out a pitiful noise, every muscle straining as he feels your wetness convulse around him. “Oh fuck��you’re-you’re gonna make me cum, I—”

Your chest is arched into his. The high is excruciatingly long, the feeling of his grip getting tighter as he starts to ruthlessly shovel his entire length in you over and over again. His desperation is clouding his senses, forgetting that you’re hidden in plain sight. 

He just doesn’t care. Not when you feel like heaven wrapped around him, not when you’re shaking beneath him. And definitely not when you’re begging for his cum, wanting to be filled to the absolute brim. 

“-want it, Chris. Inside…I—please,” you rasp. 

His head drops into the crook of your neck, the rhythm of his hips stutter as he lets himself finish deep inside of you, making sure to give you everything. 

“Fuckkkkkkkk, all filled up now, huh? Is that better, baby?” he purrs, removing his hand from your mouth and petting the side of your fucked-out face. And holy shit—it’s the perfect sight. You’re so… messy. And it’s all for him. It’s not his fault he’s obsessed. He just couldn’t wait when he saw you in that damn skirt. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Your eyes go wide as you see Matt in the corridor of the hall. 

Instincts take over, you panic while trying to catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry, oh my god!” you shout, sighing as you hear his bedroom door slam shut. 

As you squint your eyes shut with shame painted on your face, Chris slowly starts to pump himself inside you again. 

“Chris, what’re you—”

“Already got caught,” he mentions, his hand grazing down and tweaking your sensitive nipple. “No point in stopping now. I had to wait all damn day for you and I—”

You shriek as he moves his hips sharply, your skin pulsing as you feel his lips brush against your ear,

“-and I’m greedy—so fuckin’ greedy for you.”

[navybrat817]

Hello, Navy! Hope you're doing well. I'm here back again because i have a mighty need to tell you this:

just bucky saying "sit and take what you need, honey" and encouraging her to ride him with all her want/need... and not even 5 minutes in he's pleading "jesus, honey, wait you're gonna make me cum too soon" but his hands still encouraging her to keep going hard.

— 🍯anon

Oh, my beautiful nonnie.

Ride It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky encourages you to take what you want.

Word Count: Over 760

Warnings: Established relationship, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), light choking, dirty talk, possessive behavior, slight feels if you squint, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Work was a big ball of suck today, but I hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Sit and take what you need, honey.”

That was what Bucky told you almost five minutes ago, and now he's forcing himself not to move as you brace your hands on his thighs and roll your hips. He watches, completely entranced, letting you bounce on his cock and take what belongs to you. Your nipples still have a bit of shine from him sucking on them and he can’t help but slide a hand to your throat and gently squeeze.

You giggle, a breathy sound, before you say, “Harder.”

He obliges and feels you tighten around him. His strength doesn’t scare you. You crave it. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs when you moan. “Bounce on my cock. Take me.”

Just like he has his days when he simply fucking needs you, which is quite often, you have those days, too. So, when you went into the living room, naked, tugged on his sweatpants, and straddled him without a word, he was more than happy to let you take control. It makes him feel good that you need him. Though it was taking everything in him to not thrust up into you or flip you over and pound into your pretty pussy until you cried.

As long as you get off, you can fuck however you please.

But he feels his head start to spin, his eyes half lidded when he feels the dam close to breaking. “Fuck, honey, wait,” he begs when you move faster, dropping his hand to your hip. He doesn’t keep you still. His touch only encourages you. “Gonna fill you up too quickly if you don’t stop.”

And he has to get you off.

His words only encourage you more. “Yeah, big boy?”

“I’m serious. Gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warns. Only you can make him lose control.

“You can. It’s okay,” you smile, a heart stopping smile, when he bites his lip. “I want you to.”

“Honey…” he growls, another warning. He isn’t sure if it’s for you or himself.

“My pussy’s that good, isn’t it?” you asked, circling your hips. “You wanna fill me up, don’t you? Make my pussy yours.”

“Fuck me,” he groans, his head falling back. He loves when you talk dirty. Loves fucking each of your holes. Bucky just loves you.

“I am. I’m fucking this thick… huge… cock,” you moan, your back arching and your hand moving between your legs to play with your clit. It’s such an erotic, filthy display and he swears he’s going to blow his load in a few more seconds. “Making it mine.”

His breath hitches when you lean in, your lips touching the corner of his mouth. “Fuck, yeah. It’s yours,” he promises, his breath ragged as you grind yourself down on his cock. Your cunt feels too good, squeezing him like you own him, the same way he owns you. He just doesn’t want to let go without you. “Want me to come? Wanna milk my cock for all it’s worth?” he asks, smacking your ass and smirking when you shriek.

“Yes!” you cry.

“Then keep riding me. Use me. Own me.” The wet squelch from your bodies meeting is almost obscene and he loves it. Loves every sound, every movement. He still can’t believe some days that he has you. That he gets to fuck you, love you, keep you. You’re his, and he’s yours. “‘Atta girl.”

“‘m close, Bucky,” you moan. He can feel it. You’re practically dripping. Such a pretty fucking mess. He wants to clean it up with his tongue. “So, give it to me. Come with me. I need it.”

Bucky will never deny what you need.

His fingers dig in as he starts to quiver. Bucky wasn’t a man who quivered until you and your perfect cunt showed up in his life. And your greedy cunt milks him just like you want, and he wonders if his release is what triggers yours. The moans you let out don’t stop him from claiming your mouth and swallowing down the last sounds from your orgasm. And he can’t stop himself from finally lifting his hips, drawing one last moan from you.

“Fuck…” he pants, smiling and framing your face. “I love you.”

“I love your cock,” you sigh, and giggle when he nibbles on your bottom lip. “And you.”

That makes his heart soar. “Get what you need?”

“Almost.” There’s a spark in your blissed out expression, and his cock stays hard inside your clenching walls. “Think I need one more.”

He gives you three, and you thank him for it.

Nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[azonewithu]

Hard Ship. I like those words. Thank you can i just fuckn take thosevoff you and make my own little story with them. Im the pirate captain of the good ship Hard Ship. We re fuckn hard on this ship and we dont wanna fuckn hear about anyones good or otherwise personsl problems. You cant make it to the vote because i smashed your fuckn knee caps thats your fuckn problem no not some homeless persons. See how truth works. Its subjective as in now i get to subject you to ky truth since i won the election. Ha ha ha ha. Ahhh the truth everyone loclves the fuckn truth. Snd the good ship Hard Ship ill trll you what the fuckn truthnis not the other way around. We ll buy everyone off then sink your punk ass ship on the high seas. Arrrgggggggg it he captain Jack ass at ur service ya land lovnnscum suckn scuuurrvvvyyy ass dogs.

Tonight House Republicans voted 217 to 215 for a budget that'll take $1 TRILLION dollars from Medicaid, attack food benefits for kids, hurt seniors and vets.

but I don't want to talk about that, I want to talk about these two Democratic members of Congress you've never ever heard of.

Democrats, Congressman Kevin Mullin of California and Congresswoman Brittany Pettersen of Colorado.

Congressman Mullin had knee surgery that didn't go well, two surgeries, a life threatening blood clot and a week long stay in the hospital, and the moment he was discharged from the hospital he got on a five hour flight to DC to vote against the Republicans evil budget, using a walker to get to the floor of the House

Congresswoman Pettersen gave birth to her son Sam, in the picture, exactly one month ago on January 25th. They flew from Colorado to DC after Republicans refused to allow her to vote by proxy after having a baby. Congresswoman Pettersen took Sam onto the floor of the House to vote to protect the Health care of 400,000 Colorado kids.

why talk about this? because so much of the conversion is about telling people there's no one good, no one worthy, no one fighting. I promise you there are people undergoing personal hardship to do the right thing.

[tojisteddy]

Sweet Ride | smut, 18+ MDNI, 1.2k words, softdom!Toji x sweetheart!reader

You’d been 3 months into your relationship when Toji Fushiguro finally realized that you, for some odd reason, loved letting idiots fuck you.

It must’ve been where that very minuscule masochism kink came from. Had to be.

He’d noticed the way you’d get shocked when he went to pay for— well- everything. Didn’t matter if he lost a shit ton from gambling and losing that day, didn’t matter if you went over your own set budget, didn’t matter that you didn’t ask because you didn’t want to look money hungry or if you quickly pulled out your card and paid. He’s sending $300 to you to make up for it. The man. Was going. To pay.

Toji also noticed the way you’d shy away when you realized he was actually listening to the words that came out of your mouth. Informing you that he hated that coworker of Sherl just a little bit more than you did. Plainly telling you ‘no’, he didn’t just want to see just your hair bone straight- he wanted to see your curly hair that framed your face (when you wanted to of course) and that he thought you would look good with any hair color not just the jet black. Or when you only went to make food that he liked,

“But this is what my ex-“

“—Mama, what do you really wanna eat? Tell me or we’ll both starve tonight.”

Truthfully, it irritated the fuck out of the man.

He didn’t get it, how someone so precious got treated like shit on multiple occasions. He kept reminding himself that you weren’t the problem, those fucking dick wads were.

But the irritation jumped back out when you rode him. He knew after that first time (just a week ago) that those fucking idiots didn’t know what the fuck to do with you. He’d cock his eyebrow up at you because he simply couldn’t hide the vexation of it all.

“You don’t like it Toj?” Your voice was hoarse, curls falling over your face, a pout forming.

It was clear the way you moved your hips back and forth, held yourself and didn’t use him for leverage, you rode your ex’s to get them off and nothing more.

More sins against God.

There had to be a scripture about it somewhere, “Never let thou spouse ride-ith you in cowgirl without her cumming.” Or something— the man didn’t know. He knew for a fact, only a bitch would never let a woman cum while she’s riding him.

“Toji? ‘M sorry, it must not be good.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to relax, not be too touchy. “ ‘S just harder cause you’re so… so big. ‘Nd I- fuck- mmm- don’t think I’ve ever had time to relax like this. I must be takin too long.”

Shit, you frowned, big brown puppy eyes looking down at the green eyed monster and his heart ached. He nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, his poor pretty baby. Sweet doll, don’t you worry your little head. Your Toji would fix this little problem tonight.

And when you two were done, he’d beat the fucking breaks out of each and every single one your exes.

It would cleanse the soul.

“ ‘S okay baby, yer doin good. Need you to relax f’me. Want you to take a little bit more though, hm? You can take it, right? You’re a good girl.”

You bit your lip, nodding in agreement.

Such a good girl. Toji’s sweet ‘nd good girl.

Tojis hands pulled you closer. “How do I get ya to relax then? Can you tell me?” You felt your cheeks heat up, shaking your head and attempting to hide yourself in his neck. But Toji kept you still, playfully bumping your foreheads together with a chuckle.

“Let’s find out then,” His hands wandered, up and down your sides, then one staying at the small of your back, the other making its way to your pretty tit in his hand. Slowly massaging it in his palm. “Maybe you like it here?”

You whimpered in his mouth and Tojis scar moved upward in amusement, green eyes low. He left a trail of kiss from your cute cheeks, down to your jaw. “Or here?” Down to your neck, taking a few nibblies here and there. “Or here?”

You let out a soft moan, finally nodding your head.

“Words, mama.” He was stern but you felt the grin against your neck.

“T-there feels— feels so nice Toj.” The man hummed at your words, being sure to praise you with an array of kisses and hickeys for the world to see tomorrow on your neck.

“I-I can move now?” You asked. You felt so full with what he was giving you, but you felt so good with every little kiss the aching tip and veins of his member gave to your walls.

“Course doll.” He enterwinted your fingers, “Gotta take it nice ‘nd slow baby, don’t gotta go fast.”

You gulped, gradually lifting yourself up and down and rocking your hips back and forth, then repeating the motion. Your hands left his large ones, starting to use his shoulders as leverage, “There you go ma, there you fuckin go.”

He hissed, you were a god damn waterfall down there. Toji didn’t even know how the fuck you were still managing to keep him insider everytime you’d move up so just the tip was in, and slamming back down. When you tried to go faster a large calloused hand came down to your ass.

“B-but Tojiii,” you whined, slowly swiveling your hips one time to get a curse out of him. “Wanna make you feel good too.”

“ ‘Nd I ‘ppreciate Doll, I do. You feel so fuckin good too ma, but it’s not about me tonight, ‘s about you. Need you to really feel it deep in your pretty pussy.” He gave you a few thrusts, matching your rhythm creating the most beautiful smack smack smack your bedroom has ever heard.

“Take what you need babygirl.”

Toji had a way with words, he’d gotten a pornographic moan from it alone. Your nails dug into his shoulders, the meat of your thighs jiggling every time you came down. Slick drenching Toji’s cock, your thighs were burning but you kept moving. Chasing your high with every bounce on his fat fuck.

“Goooood girl, now you got it doll.”

“I can— I can take more Toji.” You stammered out.

“I’d loooove that sweetheart— shit ma- but not tonight. Ngh— This is just enough.”

“But—“

“-Aht,” he grumbled, helping you move your hips as you got just a tad too slow for his liking, “don’t bite more than you can chew. Come on, you can make yourself and your boyfriend cum, can’t you?”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you were grinding and slamming yourself down what you could take as hard as ever getting a loud from Toji. You were such a good and fast leaner, the man would have to keep you. Train you to do other things, soon enough you’d be able to take all of him. You were fucking pulsing like a over worked heartbeat around him as a wave of emotions smacked you over the head, a string of fuck fuck fuck and Toji Toji Toji leaving your mouth.

The man growled, giving your ass a few harsh smacks as he rapidly thrust into you. You never knew when you were cumming so you never vocalized it.

You’d work on that too.

Quickly pulling out, spurts of his cum hit your stomach. You both were panting messes, Toji’s pink lips meeting your temple, then your soft full lips.

“Good fuckin job, mama.”

a/n: ride the dragon by fka twigs

most recent masterlist

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

ice cream - s. itoshi

itoshi sae hated the current situation that he was in.

mud squelching underneath his boots, sae held the soccer ball in his hands carefully, only the tips of his fingers touching the mud-covered soccer ball. rin had accidentally kicked it too far away, and just as sae went to go get the ball, it started raining.

no, pouring.

at the ripe age of nine years old, sae knew very well of what he liked and disliked. he liked salted kombucha tea. he disliked interviewers and the media. he liked seagulls. he disliked people giving him expectations. he liked the end of summer. he didn’t like overly emotional people. he loved soccer. he hated school. he loved rin.

he just didn’t know how to feel about you.

you were his next door neighbor, and you were…strange? no, that wasn’t the right word. but sae didn’t know what way to describe you; you cried over small things, you ate far too unhealthy, and you talked to him a lot. but at the same time, you were kind to rin, you would use your allowance to buy sae bottles of water when he ran out during practice, and you never seemed to mind his rude nature. he would sometimes buy you ice cream to repay you for buying him water, which you always beamed at.

his heart would stutter just a little at the sight of you, his cheeks would warm just a little bit at your compliments, and his eyes would glimmer just a little at the sight of your smile.

choked sobs were the last thing that sae expected to hear in the pouring rain.

your bike next to you and your hands grasping the bike handles, warm tears rolled down your cherry colored cheeks uncontrollably. raising an eyebrow, sae decided to stay outside just a little bit longer. “what now?” sae asked, walking over to you through the puddles of water that begin to form. you began to choke out something incoherent before sae rolled his eyes, scoffing. “speak clearly. you sound like you belong in an asylum.”

“t-the ice cream! it’s gone! they don’t have it anymore! and i went to a farther store to get one, but theirs was too expensive!” you exclaimed, wiping away your tears rapidly, the rain running down your hair. sae’s head tilted to the left slightly, furrowing his eyebrows.

“the ice cream…?” he thought of the ice cream shop nearby, the one he always bought you and rin ice cream from.

“the type that you first bought me! the vanilla flavored one with the popsicle.”

oh, that one. sae didn’t get it; it was just an ice cream, what was so special about it? you could literally just buy it online or something. “you just said that another store had it.” he pointed out. “can’t you just borrow some of your parents’ money or something?”

“it was 300 yen, and i only have 210 yen on me.” you muttered. “and mama and papa are already having a hard enough time with money. i dont wanna keep on bothering them.” sae frowned; god, why couldn’t this just end quickly? it was raining so damn hard.

“it’s still just an ice cream.”

“no, it’s not!” you cried. “sae, this was the first ever ice cream you bought me, this was the ice cream i ate when my parents divorced, the was the ice cream i ate when i did bad on a test to feel better, this was the ice cream i ate when i did good on a test to celebrate, and this was the ice cream that i always buy.” you sniffed.

sae blinked. this ice cream was special to you…because this was the first ever one that he had bought you? his heart raced unbearably fast, to the point where he could hear his heart beating in his ears. his face was on fire right now despite the cold rain hitting his head and shoulders every moment, and he glanced away.

“wait here. i’ll be back soon.” sae ran back into his house, ignoring his parents’ calls of concern and rin’s desire for the soccer ball, and emptied his piggy bank.

3000 yen. that was enough for you to buy ten of them.

he ran back outside to you, and he couldn’t help the slight softness of his features when he realized that you’ve stopped crying. he shoved the money into hour hands, looking down at you. when you looked up at him as if he were some sort of saint, his face hardened, and he scowled. “this is only because your crying is annoying. and don’t go back to that farther store until the rain stops, because you’ll just get hurt and start crying to me again.”

despite his unbelievably rude words, you beamed. “thank you, sae! you’re so kind!”

sae swore that he could feel his heart exploding.

years later, sae is back from spain to renew his passport. he’s staying at his house for a while; after all, he’s always been the favorite child. he takes a walk around the neighborhood just to relive the nostalgia before he has to inevitably return to spain in a month or so. as he’s walking, his eyes eventually linger on the old ice cream store that he used to buy you and rin ice cream at.

with thinking, he slides the familiar glass door open. one popsicle with no sugar or artificial flavors won’t hurt him. as he’s scanning the freezers, his eyes zero in on one.

a certain vanilla flavored popsicle.

his eyes can’t help but soften as he remembers that day in the rain, and he picks the popsicle up, walking to the check out counter. he’s glad that it’s in stock again, although it probably took a while. at the checkout counter, he expected to see the kind old auntie who owned the store, but instead, his jaw went slack at the sight in front of him.

it’s you.

you seem just as shocked as he is, the name tag pinned on your shirt reflecting off of the store’s plastic lights. sae’s eyes widen by just a fraction; he didn’t see you during his neighborhood walk yet, but he thought that you would just be busy or something. how ironic, the fact that you’re working in the very store you once cried over.

but sae can’t help but notice. he can’t help but notice the same glimmer in your eyes. he can’t help but notice how your hair is just a little bit longer.

he can’t help but notice how beautiful you look.

“you’re back!”

a/n: could you tell that this was inspired by that one scene in better than the movies? reading that book for the first time altered my brain chemistry. also, i know that i said i have a hard time writing for sae, so im just trying this out because this prompt fits best with him.

[luvashli]

MORE THEN FRIENDS

Synopsis -> Heeseung has always been your best friend—but lately, the lingering touches and stolen glances feel different. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to realize he’s meant to be more.

Pairing -> best!friend!heeseung x fem!reader

Genre -> oneshot, best friends to lovers, suggestive

Status -> complete

Wc -> 3.4k

Note -> requestet by this ask :) hope you enjoy

The first time you met Heeseung, he was the quiet new kid in your fourth-grade class, staring down at his desk while nervously tapping his pencil. You had been assigned as his seat partner, and while the rest of the class chattered around him, he stayed silent.

Ever the curious one, you nudged his arm with your elbow. “Wanna trade snacks?” you asked, holding up your peanut butter sandwich.

Heeseung hesitated, his eyes flickering up to meet yours for the first time. Then, without a word, he slid his pack of strawberry Pocky across the desk. You grinned, breaking your sandwich in half and handing it to him.

And just like that, you were inseparable.

___

Middle school was a blur of shared lunch trays, inside jokes, and whispered secrets. Heeseung wasn’t as shy anymore—not with you, at least. He still liked to keep to himself, but you were the exception to that rule.

You balanced each other out. Where you were loud and impulsive, he was calm and thoughtful. Where you rushed headfirst into things, he held back and thought things through.

When the other kids teased you for being “too much,” Heeseung was always there, rolling his eyes and telling you they were just jealous. And when Heeseung got called a nerd for acing every math test, you sat beside him at lunch and loudly declared that smart people were hot anyway.

Back then, everything was simple. Heeseung was your best friend, and you were his. No questions asked. No complicated feelings.

But then came high school. And suddenly, things weren’t so simple anymore.

___

Heeseung had always thought you were pretty. Even back in middle school, when you still had braces and a habit of tripping over your own feet, he knew there was something about you that pulled people in—pulled him in. But he never really understood what that feeling meant until sophomore year.

It happened at a school dance, of all places. You had dragged him there, even though he insisted he hated school events. You’d rolled your eyes and called him a grandpa, saying, “Come on, Hee, what’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst, apparently, was watching you slow dance with someone else.

He hadn’t realized he was gripping his soda can so tightly until Jake nudged him. “Dude, you look like you wanna kill someone.”

Heeseung forced a laugh. “What? No. I just…” He trailed off, eyes fixed on you—on the way you laughed at something your dance partner said, on the way they spun you around like you were weightless. And that’s when it hit him.

He was in love with you.

It was a terrifying realization, one that made his stomach twist into knots. Because the moment he understood his feelings, he also understood something else—you didn’t feel the same way.

After that night, Heeseung tried to ignore his feelings. He told himself it was just a phase, just a stupid crush that would go away if he stopped thinking about it.

He dated other girls. Not many, but enough to convince himself he was over you. But it never worked, because every time something good happened, you were the first person he wanted to tell. And every time something bad happened, you were the only person who could make it better.

So, he buried his feelings. He smiled when you talked about your latest crushes, pretended it didn’t sting when you called him your platonic soulmate, and kept being the best friend you needed him to be.

Because loving you was easy. It was having you that was impossible.

___

Now, standing on the edge of adulthood, you still saw Heeseung as your constant, your safe place. But Heeseung? He had spent years pretending not to love you.

And he was starting to wonder how much longer he could keep up the act.

If someone had told Heeseung years ago that he’d still be hopelessly in love with you, he would’ve laughed it off. He had convinced himself—or at least tried to—that his feelings would fade with time. That someday, he’d wake up and you’d just be his best friend again, nothing more.

But here he was, sitting across from you in your favorite café, watching as you stirred sugar into your coffee with that same absentminded concentration you always had, and he knew—he had never stopped loving you.

“You’re staring,” you teased, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Heeseung scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “No, I’m not.”

“You totally are.” You smirked, taking a sip of your drink. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Heeseung wanted to tell you the truth—that you had his whole heart on your face, that he couldn’t look at you without wanting to memorize every little detail. But instead, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you have ‘annoying’ written all over it.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Is this how you treat your best friend? Unbelievable.”

There it was. That word. Best friend.

Heeseung swallowed down the bitter taste that always followed when you said that. He knew it wasn’t your fault—you had no idea how he felt. How could you? He had spent years making sure you didn’t.

But lately, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to keep smiling when you told him about your latest date, harder to act normal when you rested your head on his shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. Because to you, it was casual. But to Heeseung, every touch, every laugh, every moment with you felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have.

And it was slowly driving him insane.

“Hello? Earth to Heeseung?” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and he realized you were waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, what?” He blinked.

“I was saying, do you wanna come over tonight? Movie night, just like old times.” You smiled, eyes bright with excitement.

It was an innocent offer. Just another normal night in your friendship. But to Heeseung, it was another reminder of how much he wanted but could never have.

Still, he nodded, forcing a grin. “Yeah, sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

Because no matter how much it hurt, being close to you—even as just a friend—was better than not having you at all.

___

Movie nights with Heeseung were nothing new. They had been a tradition since high school—just the two of you, a ridiculous amount of snacks, and an unspoken rule that you had to rewatch at least one childhood favorite before the night was over.

But tonight felt… different.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the way Heeseung seemed quieter than usual, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long when he thought you weren’t looking. Or maybe it was the way your heart kept skipping beats whenever his knee brushed against yours on the couch.

You shook the thought away, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It’s just Heeseung. Your best friend. Stop being weird.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, flipping through the streaming options.

Heeseung shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “You pick.”

“You always say that.”

“And yet, you always pick something terrible.” He smirked, reaching over to steal some of your popcorn.

You gasped, smacking his hand away. “Excuse you! I have excellent taste.”

He snorted. “Sure, if excellent taste means forcing me to sit through three-hour-long romance movies where nothing happens except people staring at each other.”

“You like those movies, don’t lie.”

“I like suffering through them for you—big difference,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spread just a little. Heeseung always did that—acted like he was just tolerating the things you loved, when in reality, he indulged you more than anyone ever had.

You ended up picking a random movie, something lighthearted, but halfway through, you barely paid attention. Your focus kept drifting to Heeseung—his stupidly perfect side profile, the way his lips parted slightly when he was concentrating, the little crease in his brow when something in the movie confused him.

It wasn’t like you had never noticed before. You had eyes, after all. But tonight, it was like your brain refused to brush it off as nothing.

You shifted slightly, only to realize just how close the two of you were sitting. At some point, Heeseung had draped his arm across the back of the couch, and without thinking, you had leaned into his side. It wasn’t unusual. You’d done this a hundred times before.

So why did it feel like your whole body was hyper-aware of him?

A scene in the movie made you laugh, and without thinking, you turned to share the moment with him—only to find him already looking at you.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away.

For a second, neither of you moved. The only sound in the room was the muffled dialogue from the movie, but everything else faded into the background. His gaze flickered down—to your lips, just for a split second—before returning to your eyes.

And suddenly, you knew.

You knew what had been different about tonight. You knew why your heart was racing, why his touches felt electric, why the way he looked at you sent heat rushing through your veins.

Because for the first time, you were seeing Heeseung in a way you had never let yourself before.

And maybe—just maybe—you were falling for your best friend.

Your heart pounded as you stared at Heeseung, the glow of the TV flickering against his face. He wasn’t looking away.

He always looked at you—watching, waiting, as if he had something to say but never quite found the words. But tonight, for the first time, you weren’t oblivious to it. You weren’t brushing off the way his eyes lingered, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh like he wanted to reach for you but held himself back.

And maybe, for the first time, you didn’t want him to hold back.

You swallowed, trying to play it off. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

Heeseung’s jaw clenched slightly, and his voice came out lower than usual. "You’re the one staring first."

You weren’t. Or maybe you were. It didn’t matter.

The tension between you felt thick, heavy, like a rubber band stretched too tight, on the verge of snapping.

And then it did.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, Heeseung’s lips were on yours, crashing into you like he had been waiting for this moment forever. Maybe he had. Maybe you had, too, without realizing it.

A small gasp left your lips, but Heeseung didn’t hesitate—his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you melted into him like you had been made to fit there.

The movie long forgotten, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing between kisses, the quiet sighs you couldn’t hold back as Heeseung deepened the kiss. His hands roamed—one sliding up your back, the other gripping your thigh as he pulled you onto his lap.

You should’ve felt nervous. This was Heeseung, your best friend. The one who had always been by your side, the one you told everything to. But right now, nothing about this felt wrong. If anything, it felt like something that had been waiting to happen.

His lips trailed down, grazing the corner of your jaw, your neck—hot and unhurried, like he wanted to take his time memorizing every inch of you.

"Hee," you breathed, hands tangling in his hair.

His grip on you tightened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest, sending shivers down your spine. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your skin.

The confession made your stomach flip. Because if he had wanted this for a long time… why did it take you so long to see it?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes. They were darker than usual, filled with something raw, something unspoken.

"Why didn’t you ever say anything?" you whispered.

Heeseung exhaled a shaky breath, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "Because I was scared you’d never look at me the way I look at you."

Your heart clenched. How had you been so blind?

You cupped his face, your thumb tracing over his cheekbone. "I’m looking at you now."

And then, you kissed him again—slow, deep, like you were making up for all the lost time.

This wasn’t just a kiss. It was years of unsaid words, years of stolen glances, years of Heeseung loving you in silence.

And finally, finally, you were listening.

Heeseung’s lips moved against yours like he had been waiting forever—slow at first, savoring every second, but growing more desperate with each passing moment. His fingers dug into your waist as if he was afraid you might slip away, but there was no chance of that happening. Not anymore.

You were completely, hopelessly lost in him.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, and Heeseung let out a quiet groan against your lips. The sound sent heat rushing through you, making your whole body feel like it was on fire.

He pulled you even closer—if that was even possible—until there was no space left between you. His hands roamed, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up your back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

When he kissed you again, it was different—deeper, rougher, like he had finally let go of whatever restraint he’d been holding onto.

And you wanted more.

You shifted slightly in his lap, your fingers tracing down his jaw, his neck, the sharp lines of his collarbone. Heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his hands tightening around you.

"Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, almost pleading.

It sent a shiver down your spine. You had never heard him sound like that before.

You leaned in, lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. "What is it?" you teased softly, barely above a whisper.

Heeseung let out a shaky laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. "You’re actually going to kill me."

You grinned, feeling a rush of confidence. "Oh? Am I?"

His hands squeezed your hips, grounding himself. "You have no idea."

The air between you was thick, charged with something neither of you had dared to acknowledge before tonight. But now that the line had been crossed, there was no going back.

You stared at him—his swollen lips, the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to steady his breathing. Heeseung had always been beautiful, but right now? Right now, he looked absolutely wrecked.

Because of you.

Something about that realization made your heart pound even harder.

Slowly, you traced your fingers over his jaw, your touch featherlight. "Then maybe you should do something about it," you murmured.

Heeseung’s eyes darkened.

And in the next second, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with a smirk that sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

"You don’t know what you’re asking for," he murmured, his voice lower now, sending shivers down your spine.

You bit your lip, fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. "Show me."

Heeseung groaned softly before capturing your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss.

And this time, neither of you held back.

___

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was warmth.

You were tangled in Heeseung—his arm draped over your waist, his face buried in your hair, his steady breathing fanning across your skin. The soft glow of early morning filtered through your curtains, casting everything in golden light.

And then it hit you.

Last night. The kisses, the way he touched you like he had been waiting forever, the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

Your heart clenched.

What happens now?

You shifted slightly, and Heeseung groaned in protest, tightening his hold on you.

“Mm, don’t move,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at how soft he sounded. “Heeseung, we have to get up.”

“No, we don’t.” He buried his face deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. “Five more minutes.”

You hesitated, staring at the ceiling. What were you supposed to say? Did last night change everything? Were you still just… friends? Did he regret it?

Heeseung must’ve felt the tension in your body because he finally lifted his head, his eyes barely open, but still filled with something softer when they met yours.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “I just… what does this mean?”

Heeseung blinked at you sleepily before a small smirk played at his lips. “You want me to confess again, don’t you?”

Your face heated. “That’s not—”

He cut you off by leaning in, brushing a slow, lazy kiss against your lips. It was barely a kiss at all, just a soft press of his mouth against yours, but it made your whole body melt.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispered. “I think I always have.”

Your breath hitched.

It was one thing to realize your feelings, to feel them creeping up on you like a slow-burning flame. But hearing him say it—knowing that he had felt this way for so long—made your chest ache.

“I…” You hesitated, but only for a second. Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

You cupped his face, running your thumb along his cheek. “I love you too, Hee.”

Heeseung let out a small, relieved laugh before kissing you again—slow and sweet, like he was savoring every second.

And this time, there was no hesitation. No second-guessing.

Just you and him, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Heeseung kissed you again, slow and deliberate, as if making sure you weren’t just a dream. His hands rested gently on your waist, his thumbs tracing soft circles against your skin, grounding himself in the moment.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice still thick with sleep.

You smiled, fingers brushing through his messy hair. “Waking up late?”

“No.” He pressed another lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Waking up with you.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you.” His smirk was lazy, teasing, but his eyes held nothing but warmth.

You rolled your eyes, but the truth was—you liked this side of him. The Heeseung who was completely unfiltered, who didn’t hold back anymore. And maybe, deep down, you always had.

A comfortable silence settled between you as Heeseung shifted, pulling you impossibly closer until your head was resting against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong, and the warmth of his skin against yours made you wish you could stay here forever.

But reality was waiting.

Eventually, you sighed. “We really should get up.”

“No, we really shouldn’t.”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, grinning when you shot him a glare.

You tried to move, but he tightened his arms around you, effortlessly keeping you trapped against him. “Nope,” he said, voice muffled as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”

You huffed, but your resolve was crumbling. He was too warm. Too comfortable. And if you were being honest… you didn’t really want to move either.

“Fine,” you relented, nuzzling closer. “But only for five more minutes.”

Heeseung chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple. “You say that now.”

And, of course, five minutes turned into ten.

Then twenty.

And before you knew it, the two of you were still tangled together, lost in quiet laughter, whispered confessions, and soft, lingering touches.

Because for the first time, there was no rush. No reason to pretend.

For the first time, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

You were his. And he was yours.

Masterlist

Open taglist

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@luvleyylina @crimson-reaper576 @d-dilemma @laylasbunbunny @luv-rizzimura @hoonkishoe @gyuyoungg @strxwbloody @tender-is-the-moon @imlonelydontsendhelp

[aziemniak]

For those who somehow missed this gem, yes the polish written Z spam is true and yes "Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz" still has a fuckton of consonants even if you account for the fact that all of its Z's and the consonants before them are treated as a single phonetic sound, and it does pass as a normal Polish name but the funniest part is. It is actually a fictional name made up by a fictional character specifically to fuck with the nazis (and after the transcriber finally gets that bs down he gets a "Chrząszczyżewoszyce powiat Łękołody" for a place of residence)

But ya'll better strap in 'cause I don't wanna talk about the Z's, their double-consonants or how we eat all those consonants like they're snacks. Those at least are simple, consistent and easy to memorize. You know what's convoluted, makes no sense, and will take you a decade of on-hands experience if you didn't have the luck of being raised with the language? Fucking declensions. Like I get that Polish is neither the exception nor the champion of convoluted grammatical cases but I'm just Very Normal about grammatical cases and how they are nearly absent from English. So, picture this: you've managed to learn the world "woman" and want to use it in a sentence! Is: 1. the woman executing the verb in the sentence? 2. it about the woman in the sentence? 3. the woman subjected to the actions in the sentence? 4. it about the woman in the sentence because for some fucking reason you can have two different cases for most nouns depending on the verb used even though this case's function is so similar to No.2 I can't come up with a better example right now? 5. the verb executed with the woman? 6. the action about the woman? 7. Or are you simply trying to call out to or adress her? And while this is an exhaustive list of cases it is by no means an exhaustive list of supplementary questions (tbf the questions I supplied are pretty ass because analyzing linguistics funtions is hard). Good luck memorizing which verb calls for which declension. Oh and the general declension suffixes change depending on the grammatical gender and whether or not the noun's non-animate, animate or personified. Good luck with that too. You're still not done yet because a lot of nouns just like having exceptions to either the general declension suffix or the word's core. Once again, good. Luck. You have to do this for all nouns, pronouns, adjectives and numbers, by the way. And yes, the natives can all tell if you mess up a single one but they're not gonna bother correcting you because they'd have to interrupt your every other sentence and that's rude (and we like to hear people struggle I guess). And you'd think it's just one of those language quirks that is stupidly convoluted for no reason but no. All of this actually does serve One Particular Function I can think of off the top of my head. All of this is just what it takes for a language to have sentences capable of leaving their grammatical subject at the gas station while also having a word order made of liquid that are perfectly understable and sound entirely natural about 80% of the time.

tumblr: on languages

[prettyangellllll]

Makeup

Summary: you want to do his makeup and he lets you under condition that you will cockwarm him

Warnings: cockwarming, implied smut, unprotected, horny rafe, needy reader,

----

The movie had been playing for the past hour, but neither of you were really paying attention. Rafe sat back against the couch, legs spread wide, lazily scrolling on his phone while you laid across his lap, staring up at the ceiling in pure boredom.

"I have an idea," you announced, shifting to sit up.

Rafe barely glanced at you. "Yeah? And what's that?"

A slow grin spread across your face as you reached for your makeup bag on the coffee table. "Let me do your makeup."

That got his attention. His brows furrowed, and he shot you a look that was equal parts disbelief and amusement. "Yeah, not happening."

You pouted. "Come on, it'd be fun!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

You huffed, but just as you were about to try again, Rafe smirked, tilting his head at you. "I'll tell you what," he said, voice dripping with amusement, "I'll let you do it… but only if you cockwarm me."

Your stomach flipped at his words. "What?"

He shrugged, completely unfazed. "You wanna play dress-up with me? Then you’re gonna sit on my cock and stay still while you do it .No moving. No whining. Just sitting pretty on my cock while you do my makeup.” ."

Your face burned, but the way he was watching you—like he already knew you'd say yes—had heat pooling between your thighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to,” he teased, his fingers gripping your chin. “So, what’s it gonna be?”

You swallowed. "Fine."

A dark chuckle left his lips as he leaned back, gesturing for you to come closer. "Atta girl."

Your hands trembled slightly as you straddled him, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support as you lifted yourself just enough to align with him. He watched you the entire time, his blue eyes dark with hunger, his grip tight on your hips. Slowly, you sank down, taking him inch by inch, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. A choked whimper slipped from your lips, but Rafe only groaned, his hands flexing against your skin.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his head tipping back against the couch. “So fucking tight.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through the overwhelming fullness. It took a moment to adjust, your body clenching around him involuntarily. When you finally stilled, he exhaled a slow, satisfied breath. “Good girl.”

Swallowing hard, you reached for the makeup bag you had abandoned earlier, hands slightly shaky as you pulled out a foundation brush. “Okay,” you said, trying to steady your voice. “Let’s get started.”

Rafe chuckled, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, his thumbs stroking lazy circles against your skin. “Yeah, let’s see how well you can focus, sweetheart.”

Your hands shook as you dabbed the brush against his cheek, the warmth between your legs making it nearly impossible to concentrate. Every tiny movement sent a spark of pleasure through your core, making it harder and harder to focus. And Rafe? He wasn’t making things any easier. His hands never stopped moving, his grip tightening every time you tensed around him.

“So quiet now,” he mused, voice laced with amusement. “Having trouble, baby?”

You bit back a whimper, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how wrecked you already were. “I’m fine.”

His smirk deepened, his fingers grazing up your spine. “Sure you are.”

He taunted, voice smooth and teasing. "You gonna be a good girl and finish? Or you gonna give up and start riding me like I know you want to?"

You glared at him, determined. "Shut up."

He chuckled, tilting his head back as he let you work, letting you try—try—to keep your composure.

With shaky hands, you picked up the eyeliner, trying to steady yourself as you leaned in closer. But the moment your chest pressed against his, he let out a deep, satisfied hum, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter. The movement sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you inhale sharply.

“Better not mess up, baby,” he taunted, his voice dripping with smugness. “I’d hate to make you start over.”

You wanted to snap at him, to tell him to shut up, but you knew that if you opened your mouth, all that would come out was a desperate moan. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, determined to finish what you started.

By the time you were done, your legs were shaking, your breath uneven, and your core a dripping mess around him. But you had done it. His face was flawless, eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, his lips a pretty shade of red.

You bit your lip, admiring your work. "There. All done."

Rafe opened his eyes, glancing at himself in your compact mirror. He grinned. "Damn. I actually look kinda hot."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything, his hands tightened around your waist, and in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him.

"Now it's my turn to have some fun," he murmured, grinding his hips into you. "You were so good for me, princess. Time to give you what you really want.

[goosewriting]

idk about you but joaquin drunk confessing that he's been in love w you since he first saw you is so personal to me

Enamorado

summary: Joaquín’s drunken love confession. 

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: alcohol, drunk behaviour, established relationship

word count: ~760

A/N: i’m honestly not even sure if this was meant as a request or not but it was too good not to write something for 😩💕 you're so right anon,, have this lil blurb mwah (be safe when drinking, kids)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(title means "in love" in spanish)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Usually, you don’t go to bars much, but this time it was a special occasion, so you went out with Joaquín and Sam. Even Bucky joined you, but now that he's a proper citizen and all, he left early. 

You glance at the time on your phone, it’s 2:46 am. Looking over your shoulder from where you sit at the bar, you see Sam on the dance floor, and smile to yourself. He’s having a good time, it seems. Joaquín is next to you, and as your eyes go back to him, he’s putting down his drink he just emptied. He looks at you with a goofy grin. 

“Alright, then, that’s enough for you,” you say with a gentle smile, pushing his glass a little farther away from his hands. “Let’s take a break, yeah?”

You’re fairly tipsy yourself, but Joaquín is proper drunk now. He doesn’t let himself get to this point often. Luckily he doesn’t get angry or physical when intoxicated, instead he turns to absolute mush, incoherent mumblings about how much he loves you and Sam leaving his lips incessantly, muttering about how glad he is to be part of the group, how badly he wants to meet the Avengers. He also gets a little clingy, not that you mind. His hands will always be on you somewhere, your leg, your back, your face. 

Right now, he’s leaning his forehead on your shoulder, grumbling under his breath, but you can’t make out what he’s saying.

“Wanna go take some fresh air?,” you offer.

Joaquín nods, getting off his stool, and he lets you pull him to the back, where you exit to a small patio. You breathe in the cool night air, the buzzing in your ears starting to dissipate. You lean onto the wooden fence and look out to the city below, the lights moving and dancing in the distance like a painting. Or maybe you just can’t focus your eyes right now.

You feel something warm coming up behind you, and Joaquín’s arms snake around your middle as he hugs you into his chest. He hums, swaying you both lightly from side to side, and you laugh, turning within his hold to face him, and you cup his face. His skin feels hot, and you can see the redness on his cheeks even in the dim light.

“You need to learn to pace yourself,” you say.

“Ssshuddup. Sam’s fault,” he retorts, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“Right,” you chuckle. Sam and Joaquín did make some bet or other about how many drinks they could have before losing the ability to walk a straight line.

When he pulls back, his chocolate eyes find yours, albeit slightly out of focus, but his gaze holds so much warmth and affection, you can’t help but get lost in them. He hums again, a smile spreading on his lips. You tilt your head.

“Whatcha thinking about?” you ask.

“You.”

“Yeah?” Your heart flutters.

“Always,” he confirms.

“Anything specific?”

“I, when you…” he starts, struggling to form real words. “Desde el primer momento en que te vi…”

You chuckle, softly pinching his cheek, then cup his face again.

“English, please.”

“You, it’s always been you,” he speaks more clearly this time, and quickly turns his head to place a kiss to your inner wrist. “From the very moment I first saw you, I’ve been in love with you.”

You swallow, tears stinging behind your eyes as you smooth over his cheekbones with your thumbs. Joaquín’s hands slide from your waist to your back to push you closer into him.

“Madly,” he says, and places a kiss on your forehead. “Entirely.” Another on the tip of your nose. “Desperately.” His speech is a bit more slurred on that one, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, giggling goofily as he pulls back to look at you.

You mirror his love struck gaze, softly running your fingers through his curls before you hold the back of his head to pull him close, capturing his lips. It’s not as elegant as it could have been, kissing somewhat sloppily in the dark of night, but you can feel how earnest his words are in the way he holds you, breathes you in. And with every wet kiss he places wherever he can reach, he whispers ‘I love you’s into your skin, the press of his lips leaving a trail of fire, burning his words into your body, to remind you that you’re his and he’s yours. Madly, entirely, desperately. 

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @f1-tennisgirlie @magikdarkholme @tsunchani @Chuchu8293 @bitchy-bi-trash @guynamedaurel @crumbledcastle28 @sarahskywalker-amidala @crazy4lyricb

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

[witherby]

If the last fic takes place before the Batfam knew about Conners existence, I just wanna see Mouse explain to them that a Superman cosplayer saved them lol

I love that. "Yeah some cosplayer saved my life. 10/10 would let him do it again."

Littlest Wayne: Information Gathering

Masterlist is Here!

"You and Superman need to come straight to the Cave when you return to Earth."

"I miss you, too, babe," Hal smirks, gliding just above the ground on a planet he and Clark are guarding for a major diplomatic conference. "Tryna get the debrief out of the way so we can get me out of by boxer briefs right after?"

"Mouse was in a hostage situation in Metropolis today that was too overcast for them to get out of."

Hal's good mood plummets. He almost shouts for Clark to get his ass over to him so they can immediately head back.

"Are they —"

"Alive, and relatively unharmed considering the severity of the event."

"What does relatively mean in this context, B?" Hal snaps. "Relatively unharmed by vigilante standards or by civilian standards? Are they in the hospital?"

"Some bad bruising to the temple and a low-grade burn on the right arm. They're safe."

Bruce's calm tone and steady cadence helps relax Hal. His shoulders un-tense and he lets out a sigh.

"Alright. But there's more to it, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

Bruce hums in that quiet way he does when he's pleased by Hal's deductive reasoning. It makes him smile and miss him that much more, and he's only been gone two days.

"They were rescued by a new Meta. Called himself Superman."

"Look at you, crackin' jokes on an official League line. Never thought I'd see the day!"

"..."

"You're not joking. There's a second Superman flying around?"

"A Superboy, by the looks of it. He's the real deal — the flight, the strength, and the suit all points to another Kryptonian. This will make three, after Supergirl."

Hal furrows his brow. He lets his feet hit the ground and starts to pace, kicking up little bits of purple dirt. This planet is ridiculously fragile. It's part of the reason he and Clark are protecting it during these peace talks.

"Is it a baby? Don't remember either Kara or Lois looking pregnant."

"A teenager. Around Mouse's age, by the looks of him, and very inexperienced from what scattered footage I can find of the event."

"Which makes no sense. There's something up if he's a teen but still can't use his powers right. Supes told us he could hone his almost perfectly before he was old enough to drive a car. A new scheme by Luthor or Waller, maybe?"

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"Keep praising me like that and there won't be time for a debrief when I get home."

Bruce hums again. His considering sound. The Green Lantern suit feels very constricting, all of a sudden.

"You don't need to rush your mission to get back. There is one more thing you need to know prior to return, however."

"I'm all ears."

"Mouse described the Superboy as... handsome."

Hal falls to his hands and knees, kicking up a small cloud of purple dust.

"No, no, nooo! They're just a baby!"

"Well. They're seventeen."

"Well I say they're too young for romance! Yesterday they were afraid of Cooties!!"

"Time flies. It's inevitable."

"We're gonna wrap these peace talks up tonight."

Bruce sounds amused on the other end of the line, like he hasn't just crushed Hal's entire world three sentences ago.

"You aren't due back for another week."

"We're wrapping it up tonight!"

"Okay. Agent A will know to set your plate tomorrow."

"Can he make some of those mini quiches? I'm gonna need comfort food to get over this."

"I'll pass the request along."

"And can you wear the see-through robe you were given after you shot that Dior commercial?"

"...if you slick back your hair, yes."

Hal grins. He's still not happy about his youngest kid growing up so fast, but this is a nice consolation prize.

--

True to his word, Hal and Clark get the peace talks concluded by nightfall and head back to Earth. Clark is given the general run-down of what happened on the way, and his curiosity and insistence on getting answers lets Hal know it'll be a long night. He's gonna slick his hair back anyway. He misses his husband, dammit.

You sit at the meeting table in the Bat Cave, feet propped on top exactly like Jason does it, with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your hoodie. You stare groggily at Hal and Clark as they fly in from their trip, shuffling to your feet to give them both sleepy hugs.

"Welcome back," you yawn. "Dad said you have questions?"

"Hey, Mousey," Hal grins, ruffling your hair. You grumble and wave his hand away, then grumble louder when Clark does the exact same thing. "Just got some follow-up questions about the field trip, then we'll let you get back to bed."

You go back to your seat and slump into it, rubbing your eyes. "Kay."

"Did the boy you met tell you his name?" Clark asks, sitting to your right. There's a dossier sitting on the table that he flips open, glancing over the information Bruce collected with Tim's help. He frowns at a still image pulled from his interview on TV.

"Just called himself Superman," you explain. "He had a version of your suit on. It looked legit. I'm guessing he's not your son, based on the way you're looking at the file."

"He is not. Did he seem to be acting maliciously or under someone's control? Was he flesh and blood or robotic?" Clark asks. "Did he hurt anyone? Did he try to hurt you?"

"No," you say, "he was warm. He's flesh and blood and definitely saved us from that fire. In fact he seemed...uh.."

You wave your hand around vaguely and pick over the best way to phrase this.

"Okay! There's a boy at school named Rory. He transferred to Gotham Academy this year after being homeschooled."

"Mousey," Hal speaks up, "I know you're tired, but we kinda gotta stay on track —"

"I am!" You insist. "I am, I swear. Look, it was obvious Rory was homeschooled because he didn't know how to, like, socialize properly? He asked a lot of questions that feel like common-sense if you're used to going to public schools and talking to people outside your family. The Superman cosplayer kind of acted like that."

"Cosplayer?" Clark mouths at Hal, who waves him off.

"So you think he's never been out there doing any hero stuff before that day?"

You shrug and nod. "I think he's never been out at all before that day. He reminded me a lot of Rory on his first day of school."

"But he didn't hurt you?" Hal asks.

"I promise, he didn't. He spoke to me like twice and then brought me to the EMTs to get looked at. Then Jason showed up and brought me home after making sure the school knew I wouldn't be taking the bus back from Metropolis."

"Last question," Clark promises, recapturing your attention. "Can you find him right now? With your shadows?"

"Uh, I can try."

Your gaze becomes a little distant. The shadows cast from one of the overhead lights shifts and dissolves into the ground, zipping out of the cave. Hal and Clark wait silently as you work, feeling for the presence of the boy that saved you just a day before.

"... M e t r o p o l i s..." You mutter, voice taking on that faint, echoing quality it does whenever you speak through the darkness. "...A r o o m...c o n c i o u s...k n o w s I s e e..."

"Come back, Mouse," Hal says, urgent. You take a moment to get your bearings, yawning and rubbing your face. "He knows you used your power to find him?"

You nod. "He saw my shadow move in the corner of his room. Guys, it's so bare and dark. He's got a cot, an alarm clock, and one blanket in there. It looks like some room you'd stick a sick person in to quarantine them."

"Where in Metropolis is he? That doesn't sound like the Solitary Confinement cells in the prison."

"It's not a jail. It looked like a lab, I think?"

"Lex Luthor," Hal and Clark state at the same time. Clark stands up, drawing you into another gentle hug, then heads for the exit.

"Thank you for your help, Mouse! Sleep well."

"Bye, uncle Clark. Have a good night," you call after him. When Hal stands, you rise with him, stretching. "Can I go to bed, now?"

"Yeah, hon," Hal nods, pressing his hand to your back and guiding you to the stairs. "We'll head up together. I'll tell your dad what we learned when he comes back from patrol."

"Kay," you mumble, climbing the steps with another wide yawn. "M'sleeping in tomorrow. Being up at two am sucks."

Hal chuckles. "Yeah, it does. We'll put your breakfast in some Tupperware for when you get up, then."

Once the two of you climb through the grandfather clock and reenter the manor proper, you give Hal one more goodnight hug, then excuse yourself to go to bed. Your eyes are closed as you shuffle into your room and nudge the door closed behind you, navigating the space from memory. It's not until you start climbing back into bed that you feel a dip in it that shouldn't be there.

The dip of another person's weight.

You snap your eyes open and you inhale to scream. A hand presses itself to your mouth, and you find yourself staring at those brilliant blues from yesterday.

"Waitwaitwait-" the boy gasps, whisper-shouting. "Please!!"

You push his hand off and he lifts them both up in placation, floating off the bed and several feet away from you.

"What do you want!?" You whisper-yell back. "Why are you in my room!? That's creepy!"

He grimaces, knees curling towards his chest. In the low light, you can see color painting his cheeks.

"I wanted to come see you," he murmurs.

"Why?"

"I don't know your name."

You're completely flummoxed. You shake your head and shrug.

"Do you need to?" You ask.

The boy floats a little closer, his gaze intense. He looks at you like...he looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world right now. It makes your stomach swoop.

"Yes," he says, completely sincere. "I'm...I can't...there's this..."

His brow furrows. He's exceptionally easy to read, like he's never known how to be anything except fully, authentically himself. It's a welcome change in a family of vigilante detectives with emotional intimacy issues. It'll help you know if he's trying to deceive you, too.

Quietly, you give him your name. His eyes snap to yours and he repeats it, lips shaping the vowels and consonants with an unusual reverence. You can feel your own face getting a little warm.

"I'm...Conner," the boy says. His eyes dart to your mouth. You oblige.

"Hi, Conner," you mutter. His whole body un-tenses, looking like a puppet with his strings cut as he almost dangles in the air.

"Can I —" Conner cuts himself off. He drifts closer to you. You shift back, feeling cornered from where you kneel in your bed. "Ah. I wanted... I don't know how to say..."

Exhausted and confused, you gesture at him to hurry it up a little. You know you should probably alert someone that the new Meta boy is literally floating four feet away from you right now, but you know he isn't here to cause harm.

"It's late," you speak up. "Can you try a little harder to get the point across so I can sleep?"

"Yes," Conner says quickly, obediently. "Call for me."

You blink heavily. Your mind feels like sludge. "Elaborate."

"When you need something," he specifies. "If you're in danger, or lonely, or just...or just want to. Please. Call for me and I'll come to you."

"Why?" You yawn. It's getting harder to stay conscious. You let your body fall over until you collide with the pillows, eyes slipping closed. "Why me?"

Conner floats above you, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with more reverence than is appropriate for having barely met. His fingers brush against the bruise on your temple, featherlight.

"Because it's you," he says, as your consciousness fades. "Something in my heart is yours... I hope that's okay."

You hum, managing a barely discernible "kay," in your last seconds of awareness before sleep pulls you under.

In your subconscious mind, you register warmth wrap around you for a moment, and then you're alone with nothing but a cracked window as evidence anyone had ever been there.

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Nick has been your best friend for so long, but you can’t seem to get a long with his brother—Chris. You try to mess with Chris and it backfires….badly….

Warnings: illegal street racing, stupid driving, tension, smut with so much plot it hurts, street racer Chris, BIG MASSIVE SHLONG CHRIS, size kink, bulge kink, dick-wad Chris, p n v, raw sex, riding (wink), and more....

A/N: THIS IS OVER 5.2K WORDS. THIS IS NAWT A QUICK READ. Now, get in the car bitches, we're getting HORNYYYYYY!!!!

With love and bigs tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey, cute jeans!” I wave, my lips curling into a grin as I squint my eyes at him—Chris. He rolls his tongue, shaking his head as he stalks off further down the street. Ha. 

It’s one of those rare occurrences—I’m here—at his street race, for god knows what reason. 

All I ever do is mock him. In fact, that’s why I call him cute jeans. The first time Nick and I had shown up at one of these dumb things, Chris thought I was a stranger from behind—and my jeans? Damn. 

He had to be a real asshole and hit on me. 

That night was fun for more than one reason. It sparked something—something I didn’t know existed. 

After that, my teasing only got worse. Chris’s ego couldn’t handle staying silent, he always had something smart to say. 

“Come to watch me again, huh? Gonna record it for later, I bet,” Chris winks. My mouth snaps shut as I go to say something back. He’s already gone—not giving me a second to respond before shutting the door to his car and speeding down the road. 

Typical. 

It’s still bright out. The sun sinks lower into the horizon as more people crowd the deserted street by the minute. 

“Okay, let’s just take a couple more pics and then we’ll go. I know you hate this,” Nick huffs, adjusting the leather jacket he’s wearing—the same coat that inspired this whole photoshoot. But you couldn’t blame him, he did look hot as fuck. 

Even if his looks resemble a certain idiot lurking nearby. 

Part of me is burning with spite. I hate letting Chris have the last word. But my brain sparks with an idea, a brilliant idea. 

How much would it cost him if I stayed around? 

Those stupid bets were always placed in his favor. No one could deny he was good—really good. He drove on the street like he owned it and he never even seemed nervous. 

“I kinda wanna stay—” My words are interrupted as I feel an arm rest down on my shoulders. I look over to see Beck, a girl I love seeing. 

She’s vibrant—especially with her signature red lip that seemed to draw all eyes to her. I always blossom off her confidence, loving to sit next to her when she showed true female power all with one swing of that stupid flag in the air. 

“How are ya, girlie? Haven’t seen you in months,” she puffs, hugging me a little bit closer before dropping her arm back to her side. 

I smile over at her. “Pretty good, you still stomping on egos?” I question, the glint of mischief in her eyes reflecting back as she gives me a slow nod. 

“Oh, always. Especially Chris—and it’s just for you.” She boops my nose as her words drag through the wind, the sound of tires screeching starting to muffle the chaotic hum of the crowd forming. 

Nick stares down at the camera lens, scrolling through the pictures I had taken of him—the reason why we were here, pretty much. “Actually, I think we got enough. But are you sure you wanna stay? I can come back and get you later—”

Beck brushes on Nick’s shoulder. She scrunches her nose at me while licking over her teeth. “I got her, Nick. Go home and post those pics, I’ll return her to you safely after tonight, don’t worry.” 

“Alright…” Nick sighs, reluctantly hugging me and wandering back towards his car to head home. 

“So why’d you wanna stay? Finally like cars?” Beck interrogates. 

I shake my head vigorously, laughing as she smiles at me. “Fuck no, I just—”

“You’re gonna mess with him, aren’t you?”

Her question rings through the air as a speeding car flies by—racers already warming up.

My eyes trace towards the track, seeing a sleek red sports car in the distance doing donuts. Of fucking course. Chris was always doing some dumb shit—illegal street racing or doing fucking donuts while the other racers were repeatedly drifting around the corners or fixing up their cars. 

He’s so cocky. 

I whisper back to her as I watch his car tires mark the pavement. “Damn right.”

___

Chris is already fed up—I can tell by the way his jaw clicks and his nostrils flare when I catch him in the corner of my eye. 

And I’m looking directly at him, a stupid smile covering my face as I put my money on the bet table. It’s twenty bucks, but it was twenty bucks I was willing to spend, or rather waste. Chris hasn’t lost in a while—honestly I’m not sure if he ever has. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris huffs, pulling me by the arm as he drags me to the side of the road by his car. 

He roughly shoves me. The feeling of his car pressed up against my backside leaves my eyes twinkling with pride—I’m really getting to him. Just like I planned.

I shrug. “Just placing my bets. Isn’t that what everyone does at these—”

“Why are you here? Why’re you–,” as his eyes stare into mine, his rough tone falls silent, his scowl curling into a smirk as he analyzes the subtle twitch of my nose. “Huh—just comin’ to watch, right?” 

I nod to his question, my pride sinking to my feet as I try to stand up tall. Chris presses his body against mine, making my weight lean against the car once more. I swallow thickly as his hand drops from my arm. 

What is he doing?

“You know, I meant it, right?” he tuts, his eyes tracing your figure with no shame. “These jeans… baby, they look so good on you.” His voice gets deeper, his head falling forward as his lips graze my ear. “-bet they’d look better off though, hm?”  

Fuck. 

I wish it didn’t make something inside the pit of my gut burn—but it did. God, it really fucking did. My heart is hammering against my chest, the pulse in my neck pounding in my ears as slight butterflies in my stomach make it harder to breathe. 

Shoving my body quickly, I manage to escape his hold. “Shut up. You’re such a cocky prick,” I spit, my arms folding across my chest as I try to keep a stern expression. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh, grinning like he’s already won. He takes a couple steps forward, letting his hand travel into the ends of my hair, “And yet, you love it. I can practically hear how nervous I’m makin’ you, it’s a real ego boost,” he husks. 

“You don’t make me—” My lips fall open further, motionless as his hand moves to my neck, his cold fingers brushing against my pulse as my eyes go wide. 

“Not nervous, huh…” His head leans towards the side as he stares all over my face. His eyes linger on my lips as I try to look away. 

But it’s impossible. Chris swerves his head, not letting my eyes leave his as he just stares at me. 

“Chris, stop—”

“Why? Do I make you too nervous?” he urges, licking over his teeth and letting his hands drop down to his sides. 

I feel a wave of heat caress up my spine and over my shoulders. “Don’t you have some stupid race to lose?” 

The taunt seems humorous to him, the last resolve of my dignity peeking through mumbled words as he wipes over his mouth. 

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll go try to lose, but—I might need your help.” He shrugs, walking off with a wink. 

Uh oh. 

Help?

___

I can’t tell what the fuck is going through his brain. Part of me regrets staying—but another part of me is sickly invested in whatever this twisted game is. 

Nearly all bets had been placed. Stacks of money rested on the plastic table with a heavy bais—most were betting on Chris. 

It had to be at least two grand. 

He wouldn’t give up two grand for some petty argument with me, right? No—that would be insane. Absolutely bonkers. 

…right?

I watch as Beck stands in the middle of the dark street, the only glow coming from the blue streetlights above. The sun had set quickly, the stars and moon doing nothing compared to the headlights from all the cars.

My legs hurt. I didn’t realize I had been clenching every muscle for the entirety of the countdown to the actual race. The cold bleachers sting against my skin in the night air—maybe I would’ve dressed warmer if I thought I was gonna stay. But no—I was stuck shivering in jeans, a purple lace bra peeking from under my black top, and a letterman jacket. 

The front row gave the best view, but I had no one to shield the bitter breeze. But it was worth it. This way I got to sit by Beck the entire time. 

“Racers ready?” she shouts, her voice prominent over the reviving engines as she holds the flag in the air. 

Chris is on the side closer to me, his boyish smile apparent as I stare at the side of his face. The other guy was one of the better ones—the bets had some sort of hope in him, a large stack of bills showing that he had a decent amount of skill. 

My mouth waters as I see Chris run a hand through his hair, his head turning and his eyes catching mine. Holy fuck. He looks absolutely dreamy—there’s not an ounce of anxiety, pure confidence radiating from him. 

And it makes it so hard to look away. 

“Wait, I got one more bet I gotta place,” Chris announces. 

What?

My brows furrow, my face scrunching as I watch Beck relax the flag back down to her side. “Make it quick.” 

Chris nods at her words, my stomach flutters as he stares directly back at me, leaning his head out his window while licking over his lips. “Wanna make a bet, sweetheart?” he asks. 

I look around me, my shoulder sinking slightly as I take in the amount of people staring at me. 

He’s holding up the race to embarass me. Fuck. 

As I stare back at him with squinted eyes, he clicks his tongue on the side of his mouth. “If I win, I get to take you for a drive. Deal?”

“What?” I exclaim, throwing my hand in the air as I motion to the bet table, “Why the hell would I agree to that—”

“You bet against me, remember?” he points. 

My lips smack shut, the lump in my throat gathering thicker as I try to swallow. “I’ll even give you the chance to make sure I lose a round. We gotta bet or not?” he questions, his eyes twinkling as the blue lights illuminate his sharp features.  

If he had to lose one of the three rounds, that put more hope into the other racer. And if the other race won, I’d be more than content. Getting to call him a loser would definitely irk him more than anything—especially if it was true.

I hear boos chant around me. “Hurry up and race!” someone says from behind me. 

My body stiffens as I hear the chorus of disapproval. “Deal!” I shout, biting on my inner cheek. 

Chris looks at me with a daunting grin, his hand squeezing on the wheel as he nods. “A’right—ready. Sorry for the hold up.” 

Beck rolls her eyes, holding up the flag once more. 

“Racers ready?” she glares at Chris, continuing on as he revs his engine in response, “3—2—-1, GO—”

My heart drops as I watch the smoke from the tires scratching the street float around Beck. She saunters over, settling beside me as I lean forward, my pulse pounding in my ears as I watch them race side-by-side. 

As the car rounds the corner and starts nearing the finish line, Chris’s car zooms just slightly in front of the other vehicle, only seconds of a difference. 

I can’t wait to call him a fuckin loser. 

Beck walks back out, the flag raising in the air as both cars position once again. “Alright, race two. Ready, set—” 

“Hey!” 

Stomping her heels on the pavement, Beck scowls at Chris as he shouts towards my direction. I look over, my face burning as I feel the crowd stare down at me. 

I didn’t know much about racing, but I knew enough. This wasn’t normal—this was the prime way to piss people off. 

As I go to ask what he wants, Chris curls his finger, motioning for me to come closer. 

The fuck? 

I hesitantly stand up, my arms wrapped tightly around my torso as I walk up to his car window. Chris stares up at me with devious eyes. He obnoxiously chews a piece of gum, his jaw bone protruding with each movement. 

“What the fuck do you want?!” I whisper-yell, catching angry eyes boring onto me as I take a quick glance over my shoulder. 

Oh, these people are mad—fucking furious, even. 

“Kiss me.” 

I do a double take, my eyes blinky slowly as I watch him lick over the bottom ridges of his teeth, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“What?” I breathe out, a dry laugh heaving from my lips. 

He can’t be serious…

“However long you kiss me is however long I’ll wait to start drivin’. Didn’t you want me to lose? C’mon pretty girl, you saw the bet table—use your head, alright? It’s just a kiss,” he taunts.

This is how he was gonna give me the chance to make him lose a round—I should’ve known. 

I shake my head, cringing as I hear the boo’s from the crowd get louder. 

“I’m startin’,” Beck says, holding up the flag. “3—”

“Yes or no? It’s up to you,” he shrugs, his eyes drawing over my face as my lips smack open and shut. 

“2—”

The noise of his engine revving makes my anxiety settle. This is my chance—my only chance at that. 

“Fuck it,” I murmur, taking a long stride towards him. 

“1—GO!” 

I crash my lips onto his, my hands on either side of his jaw. His lips meet mine with a hard urgency, the rhythm of my movement panicked and rushed. 

My breath hitches in my chest—I don’t know if it’s because I forgot to breathe or if it’s from the feeling of his hand traveling up and tangling around the back of my neck, pulling me impossibly closer as he slips his warm tongue into my mouth. 

I nearly forget everything, gasping for air as I pull back quickly, moaning as I feel his mouth hungrily chase mine. 

Never in my life had I been kissed like this—so passionately and rough. 

“Hey! This gotta be breakin’ some rules–”

Fuck. 

The person yelling from the crow makes me pull back into reality. I stand up, watching as Chris slowly flutters his eyes open at me with a grin so cocky my hand twitches with the urge to slap him. 

Why did that feel so… good? 

Before anyone can say a thing, the other car slowly halts back to the starting line. 

Had we really been kissing that long? 

My fingers mindlessly float up to my tingling lips, my head feeling lighter as the surroundings start to spin a bit. It’s like he put some drug in his mouth that immediately became addicting. I want more. 

“See? I kept my word,” Chris points out, “Now—you gonna keep your word if I win? Lemme take you for a drive?” I swallow thickly, nodding slowly. “Good. Now go sit down and cheer for me real loud, alright?” 

I don’t have time to respond before Beck interrupts with the same question, starting to count down. I quickly stumble back towards the bleachers, a sigh of relief pushing through my lips as my head bobbles between my shoulders while I sit down. 

The loud cars barely register in my brain. All I can focus on is how light everything feels, how my lips are swollen and pulsing. 

“C’MON!!!” 

Chants behind me draw my attention back to the road. What the fuck? It’s not even close—Chris is speeding around the corners way smoother than the first round, almost as if he had been—

Oh fuck.

He was holding back. 

I tried to mess with him and he played me with ease. 

Part of me should be mad as he races near the finish line—but all I feel is excitement—anticipation. 

My teeth clench into my lower lip as I watch him storm past the line, not even waiting for the other racer to finish before stepping out of his car and walking over. 

Is he…?

My eyes bulge as he walks in front of me, holding his hand out as an offer. “C’mon, you promised, yeah?” he urges. 

I nod slowly, sliding my hand in his. He drags me to his car, opening the passenger door and shutting it after I climb in. 

“Chris! The money—”

Beck’s words fall on deaf ears as Chris slides into the driver seat, pressing his foot on the gas hard. 

“You didn’t even get the money—what’re we doing?” I ask, looking behind my shoulder to see a crowd of people turned to our direction as we speed off further down the road. 

“You know, it’s not nice to try and tick me off,” he huffs, quickly glancing at me with a harsh stare. 

Oh.

Oh.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ abou–”

Chris lets out a vocal sound of disbelief, cutting me off, “Yeah, you do. Fuckin—bettin’ against me, tryna get me to lose and shit. For what? Don’t have a boyfriend to give you any attention, huh?” he asks, his hand reaching over and grasping onto my thigh. 

He knows I don’t have a boyfriend—I know he’s aware of that fact. 

I stare down at his large hand squeezing my jean-clad leg. Something about his rough grip makes me shift in my seat, my thighs clutching together as I feel a wave of warmth settle into the pit of my stomach. 

“You like my hand on your thigh, don’t you?” he says, smirking wider as I watch the blue streetlights cast a subtle glow on his cheekbones. 

“I—”

“You like it. Admit it.” 

There’s no room to argue as he trails his hand up further, his fingers tracing dangerously high as he gives me a rough squeeze. Fuck his hands feel good on me. 

“Chris what’re you—”

“Do you know how it feels to constantly see you and know I can’t touch you?” he starts, the car rolling to a stop by the side of the road as he rushedly shifts gears to park, “-you’re always fuckin’ teasin’ me—bein’ a damn brat and I have to keep my hands to myself,” he grits, shaking his head as he stares down at me. 

I swallow thickly as I shift in the seat. “Chris, I–”

“No. None of that bullshit. You’re always tauntin’ me. Why’d you stay, hm? Why?” he questions, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth as his eyes deepen with intensity and dominance. 

Silence. I can’t fathom any words to say, my pulse drumming quicker as Chris pats his lap, adjusting his chair back. 

“Over here. Now.” 

“Chris, what are we doing?” I ask, hesitantly starting to climb over the center console. 

His hands wrap around the underside of my thighs, pulling me quickly while I let out a slight yelp as he sits me down in his lap. His hands are firm on either side of my hips. “I’m done playin’ these stupid fuckin’ games. I just—” 

The air is quiet. His eyes fall to my lips, his hands grasping just a little bit tighter around me. I can still feel the lingering sensation from his lips on mine earlier, the slight tingle still buzzing on the soft muscle as I let myself lean in closer. 

“We should stop,” Chris breathes, his tongue sliding between his lips as his eyes flicker up towards mine. 

“Why?” 

The question rolls off my lips with ease, my palms flattening against his chest as I lower my mouth to his neck, breathing over his pulse. 

“Because–” He lets out a hiss. I place my lips on his neck, sucking gently as I massage my hand over his shoulder. “Shit—we gotta stop, baby—this, this–” His jaw goes slack as I find his sweet spot. His hands dig into my hips, the slight bulge growing beneath me making my lips curl into a smile as I gently grind myself on top of him. 

“Why do you wanna stop, Chris?” I ask, nibbling the bottom of his ear, “What’s got you so tongue-tied, hm?” 

“You’re killin’ me,” he points, his gaze trained on me as he tangles his hand through my hair, pulling me back just enough to look at him, “-fuckin’ so annoying, so pretty and horrible, I just—I don’t know how much I can hold back–”

“Don’t,” I whisper, my hand gathering the material of his shirt in a fist as I watch him bite on his lower lip. His eyes trace over my face, one of his hands slowly tracing underneath my shirt, callusing beneath my bra. 

“Yeah? Don’t want me to hold back, hm?” he remarks, his hips adjusting in the slightest, my mouth falling open as I feel him rut against me through the fabric of our clothes. 

Fuck. I can’t take this. 

I lean forward, crashing my lips against his once more. Chris hums into my mouth. He furiously helps me peel off the bulky letterman jacket, the cold air feeling like relief compared to my burning skin. 

“Holy fuck, slow down, baby,” he husks, his hands falling to my hips as I shameless grind myself against his hard bulge. But I can’t get enough. “-’m not going anywhere—gonna stay and make you feel so good. Promise.” 

My heart drops as I feel his hand delicately caress over the purple lace covering my breasts. His nimble fingers trace around my hardened nub, a slight moan falling through my lips as I feel him smirk against me. 

“Take those cute jeans off, c’mon. Be a good girl for me—just this once, alright?” he grins. 

I nod slowly, awkwardly shifting as I pull down the denim while kicking off my shoes. Chris gets impatient, yanking the clothing to his own accord before planting me back on his lap, his jacket now discarded. 

“Holy fuck, look at these legs—would look so good wrapped around me,” he whispers, brushing my hair to the side as his lips graze my neck, “-while I fuck you deep and hard.” 

Oh my god. 

My mind is numb, every inch of my skin pulsing with a hot sensation of greed. Chris stares at me with lust, his hand moving in the corner of my eye. “Want me to touch you? Right….here,” he breathes, the pad of his finger resting directly over my bundle of nerves. 

I nod slowly, looking at him with hooded eyes as he starts to slowly circle the digit with a light, feathery touch. 

“More,” I moan, pulling his shirt into my fists as I watch him smile at me. 

“Yeah? What do you want, hm? Want my big dick in you? Want me to stretch you out and make you cum over and ov—

“Please,” I whisper, my hips moving for me as I struggle to stay still. 

Chris looks down, gesturing for me to take control. I hesitantly fumble with his jeans, pulling out his hard length as my mouth starts to water. 

Fuck. He’s big. No—he’s huge. 

As I go to pull my underwear to the side, Chris stops me, placing his hand around my wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” he tuts, “-take ‘em all the way off—wanna see all of you when I fuck your guts.” 

My thighs tense from his words, my hands quickly sliding the fabric down my thighs and discarding them without a single care. Chris pets over the top of my thighs, his eyes hungrily staring down between my legs. “Fuck—are you sure you want this? I…god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

I grab his hardness in my hand, spitting and dragging the lubricant up and down his shaft. Chris grits his teeth. His hands pinching into my sides as he lets out a deep groan. “You’re so big,” I whisper, mostly talking to myself. 

My eyes bulge as I feel Chris lift me with his hands on either side of my waist, placing me so my dripping entrance is directly aligned with his tip. His eyes bore into mine with dark passion. His jaw tense as he leans forward, kissing along my neck. 

“You gonna take it all f’me?” he dares, massaging my sides but keeping me from sinking down onto him. 

“Chris, please–”

“Gotta promise to take it all, sweetheart. Been teasin’ me all day already, I don’t need anymore of that, alright? Just—just gotta promise to let me stuff you full,” he purrs, sucking on the sensitive part of my neck just below my ear. 

“I promise, just—mmphf—” He slowly loosens his grip, letting me lower myself. I feel his tip nudge past my entrance, the stretch of his size making my body tense as my legs tighten to a halt. 

“Thaatt’s it, doin’ so good, just—just relax,” he praises, brushing my hair behind my ear, “-gotta be a good girl and keep your word again, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” I stutter, slowly starting to take more of him. A broken cry falling through my lips as I feel my body stiffen again. 

Chris is patient. His eyes are trained on my face as his hands massage over my body. “You got it, c’mon—just—holy fuck,” his hand lingers down to my stomach, my top so messed up that it’s bunched over my breasts. He’s not just admiring the skin, he’s worshipping the bulge—the distinct imprint of him inside of me as I hover over the last bit of his length. 

“Look at that, sweetheart, I mean—fuck—” 

I shriek as I feel him lift his hips upward, burying himself inside of me completely. My hands grasp onto his shoulders, my eyes teary as I watch him bite on his lower lip. “God—such a good girl, takin’ me so good,” he compliments, slowly helping me as I start to ride him. 

I feel him reach deep inside of me, my eyes staring up at the ceiling of the car while my body tenses with a wave of pleasure collapsing over every beating pulse of my skin. This is even better than that damn kiss. I’ve never felt like this before. Not ever. It’s like an adrenaline rush, so overbearingly good that it feels addicting.  

“How’s that, baby, hm?” he hums, smiling down at the sight of his length plunging into my guts with each thrust as my movements quicken. 

“I–it’s, I—” 

What the fuck was I saying? 

Everything feels so light, so impossible. 

“That’s it, fuckkkkk—look so good ridin’ me like this, keep—-shit!” he seethes. My walls tighten around him, my nails digging into his shoulder through his shirt as he lifts his hips to meet my movements.

His lips parted with pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, I,” My words are cut off my a moan. 

Chris laughs dryly, his grip becoming tighten as he really puts in the work—using me like a ragdoll as he furiously fucks himself into me. “Mmmm, th-ere,” he rasps, smiling as I let out small shrieks and moans between each snap of his hips. 

He’s so deep. I’d never felt this good in my life. There’s a buzzing in my ears, spots in my vision as I feel my body ruthlessly convulse with the overwhelming sensations. 

How the fuck is he so deep?

How the hell is he hitting against the perfect spot over and over and over—

“You cumming already?” 

His question pulls me back to reality. I nod dumbly, my mouth drawing open as I let out a long moan, my thighs quivering as I rock myself against his movement. 

“Oh—I—”

“My name, sweetheart, wanna hear my–my name, c’mon,” he urges, the squelches getting louder as I feel my body burn with euphoria. 

“Chris, Chris, I–I—my god,” I cry out, my hips slowly rolling to a stop as I feel him pause his motions. 

I don’t have time to react—nor to recover. I feel Chris hold me tightly, flipping me over so my back hits the seat—his cock brutal as he drills himself inside of me. 

“Take it, fuckin—fuckin’ take it,” he chants. 

My hands scramble into his hair. I pull his face into my neck, letting my teeth sink into his shoulder. Every rut of his hips leaves me breathless, my body seizing as I feel his hardness drive into me over and over again while his pelvis slaps against my clit. 

“I’m gonn—”

“Wait. Wait for me, I’m—’m so close, baby, so fuckin’ close—”

I clench around him, the buildup becoming too much as he continues to drown every inch of my body with pleasure. His desperate tone lingers in the air, his breaths shaking as his hips lose slight momentum. 

“Wher–-where do you—”

“In-inside, please, just—just let me cum,” I plea. 

Chris huffs, his thrusts becoming erratic and somehow deeper. “Cu-cum with me, I—shittttttttt, so fuckin’ good, so… so fuckin’ good,” he seethes, a warm sensation flooding inside of me as I feel my body convulse once more. 

My limbs fall lifelessly. Our motions fall lazier, eventually pausing to a halt. Chris gently removes himself, pulling me into his arms tightly and positioning back into the seat with me on his lap. 

His hand finds the back of my head as I lean onto his shoulder, petting through my hair as we both try to catch our breath. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. I let out a light laugh, flinching as I feel my stomach burn from soreness. “You good there?” he asks. 

Nodding into the crook of his neck, I lift myself to stare at him once more. My eyes trace from his sweat ridden face, seeing a clear imprint of his hand on the fogged-up car window. My nose crinkles as I inhale deeply. “It smells like sex, I’m sorry,” I let out. 

Chris stares at me incredulously. “Sorry? That was fuckin’ perfect—better than the money if you ask me. I mean… I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands to myself anymore,” he teases, flashing me a grin as he combs my hair behind my ear. 

My lips curl with excitement. “Oh really? You like takin’ me for rides?” 

He nods firmly, biting on his lower lip. “Mhm. And you seemed to really like ridin’.” 

I let out a light laugh, shrugging my shoulders before ruffling his hair playfully. “Only with you.”

Chris cocks an eyebrow at me, “Only me, huh?” I nod shyly, letting out a brief hum. His eyes linger on mine before falling back to my lips. “You do ride good. Maybe you should be the racer,” he taunts. 

“Maybe,” I whisper, “-maybe…” 

“Let’s get you back in those cute jeans though, yeah?” 

[reiding-writing]

Might be controversial but I like enemies to lovers more than cold reader x Reid. But kinda similar as they both could have slow burn. If that’s something you would wanna write I’d love it 🥹

PETTY & PETTIER. /spencer reid/

you knock over spencer’s favourite mug on your first day, big deal right? well, yes apparently.

s1!spencer enemy!reader 1.1k fluff? masterlist.

a/n | minor break from cold!reader in the form of something that’s almost similar, guess i have a type— (also new blog theme means new fic layout so yay)

Your first day at the BAU is going well—until it isn’t.

Gideon had been your mentor since your academy days, which is how you found yourself standing awkwardly in the bullpen of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a cup of coffee in one hand and the weight of expectation on your shoulders. You were young, sure, but Gideon saw something in you. He was good at that.

What he wasn’t good at, apparently, was warning you about Dr. Spencer Reid.

It’s an accident—your elbow knocks the mug off the counter before you even realise it’s there. The ceramic shatters against the tile floor, coffee splattering everywhere. You freeze, mortified.

“Are you serious?”

You turn toward the voice, already apologising. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

You’ve read about him in your files before starting—youngest FBI recruit, three PhDs, literal genius. You expected someone…awkward, maybe. Soft-spoken. A little nervous.

What you didn’t expect was the sheer level of contempt in his expression as he stares down at the broken pieces of his mug like you just ran over his childhood dog.

“That was my favourite mug,” he says, voice flat.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It was a limited edition.”

Oh, God. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He scoffs. “You can’t buy a new one. It was a vintage 1997 Star Trek Voyager mug featuring—”

“Okay, Jesus, I get it.” You raise your hands in surrender. “I screwed up. It was an accident.”

Reid makes a noise that is, without exaggeration, a huff. Like an actual hmph sound. It’s so ridiculously childish that you’d laugh if not for the intensity of his stare.

Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

You watch him go, bemused, and then glance around. Elle and JJ exchange amused looks. Morgan grins. Gideon doesn’t seem to notice, which is so typical of him that it’s almost funny.

It’s fine, you think. He’ll get over it.

Except, Spencer does not get over it.

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to notice it. The way Reid actively hates you.

At first, you assume it’s about the mug. But the way he glares at you when you so much as breathe near him? The way he sighs—loudly, dramatically—when Gideon assigns you both to work together? The way he outright avoids talking to you unless absolutely necessary?

No.

This isn’t about the mug.

This is a personal vendetta.

And honestly? If Reid wants to be petty, you can be pettier.

The war starts small.

Reid insists on taking the seat farthest from you in the briefing room? You get there earlier the next day and steal his spot.

He gives you pointed looks every time you mess up a minor detail in a case summary? You start correcting his grammar in reports.

He spends five minutes explaining a concept you already understand? You interrupt with, “Actually, I already knew that.”

The others notice.

Morgan looks between the two of you with pure amusement. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?” you ask innocently.

Reid scowls. “Nothing.”

JJ and Elle exchange looks. Hotch sighs, rubbing his temple like he can already feel the migraine forming.

Morgan points between you. “No. No, there’s something going on. Because every time one of you speaks, the other looks like they’re plotting murder.”

“We’re fine,” you say, just to be petty.

“We’re not fine,” Reid snaps.

You smirk. “Wow, you sound upset.”

“You are infuriating.”

“You started it.”

Reid glares at you. “You started it.”

“You started it by hating me for no reason.”

The team watches this unfold like a ping-pong match.

“Okay, pause,” Elle interrupts. “Reid, why do you hate her?”

Reid crosses his arms. “Because she’s annoying.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“That’s enough of a reason.”

—

If the team was hoping that addressing it would fix things, they were wrong.

Now, it’s open warfare.

You start signing him up for unsolicited newsletters—scientific journals, conspiracy theory blogs, cat fact subscriptions.

He moves all your pens exactly one inch to the left every morning.

You convince Garcia to change his ringtone to the Barney & Friends theme song.

He leaves a 32-page thesis on the mathematical improbability of you ever besting him in psychological warfare on your desk.

The team is exhausted.

“They’re children,” Morgan says one day, watching as you and Reid glare at each other across the bullpen.

“No,” JJ says, “because children eventually grow out of it.”

Hotch looks like he’s considering transferring one of you just to get some peace.

—

The final straw is when you steal his coffee.

Which—okay. Maybe that’s fair.

But in your defence, you had no idea that Reid had some sort of special coffee blend that he kept in the breakroom. You’d run out of yours, saw an unmarked bag, and figured it was free game.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

Because the moment you walk around Reid’s desk with your coffee in hand, he scowls.

“You stole my coffee.”

“Yeah,” you say, blowing the steam from your mug pointedly in his direction. “What’s your point?”

His nostrils flare.

Reid doesn’t say anything. He just glares.

It’s a declaration of war.

Fine.

Bring it.

—

The rest of the team stops trying to intervene.

At some point, it just becomes a fact of life: the sky is blue, the BAU travels a lot, and you and Spencer Reid hate each other.

It’s not even professional rivalry at this point—it’s just petty.

You and Reid spend an entire plane ride passive-aggressively moving your seats to be as far from each other as possible.

When he lectures about a statistic, you purposefully contradict him—even when you know he’s right.

He takes your favorite pen? You take his entire stack of files and put them back out of order.

He switches the sugar in your coffee for salt? You swap his sugar for salt and take the last cookie from the breakroom.

It’s stupid.

It’s childish.

And it’s the principle of the thing.

If Reid is going to be petty, you refuse to be anything less than pettiest.

[losers-clvb]

good boy // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x female!reader

summary: you call dean a "good boy" as a joke, but things heat up when you notice the hard-on it gave him.

content: sub!dean, dom!reader, use of "good boy", praise, smut, unprotected piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), strip tease, dirty talk, dean smells reader's panties, face riding, orgasm denial, whiny dean winchester, overstimulation if you squint, dean comes inside reader, cockwarming, sweet dean post-orgasm

word count: 2.1k

note: okay, i don't know where the fuck this came from. inspired by those tiktoks of girlfriends calling their boyfriends "good boy" as a joke. i am a switch!dean believer. give that man an order and he will follow it.

masterlist

----

“That’s a good boy.”

Dean nearly dropped the plate you had asked for.

“What?” He asked, looking at you bug-eyed. You bit back a teasing smile.

“I said, you’re a good boy.” You said, purring the last two words. It was out of character for you to speak like this, especially to him. You were his best friend, yes, but the most you had done was tell him a certain shirt looked hot on him. Now, you were watching him squirm under your intense gaze.

“Why-,” Dean started, but cleared his throat when his voice cracked halfway through, “uhm, why am I a,” he hesitated, “good boy?” He finished through gritted teeth.

“You did what I asked.” You shrugged and took the plate from him. In all honesty, you had only said the words because of some social media post that had caught your eye earlier that day. It was supposed to be something small, make him laugh at you, but now you were wondering if you should’ve just scrolled past it.

You looked back at Dean and narrowed your eyes at him. He was still staring at you.

“What?” You asked when he didn’t say anything. Was he mad at you?

“Nothing.” Dean replied, but it came far too quickly to be natural. You flickered your eyes across his face. He was avoiding eye contact. You caught a glimpse of his blown pupils and his cheeks flushed pink. A realization crossed your mind.

“Did you like that?” You asked, stepping toward him. His eyes fell to your hands, tracking them when they moved to place the plate on the counter. You ran your tongue over your teeth before smirking at him. “You like being a good boy?”

You placed a hand on his chest and swore you could feel his heart pounding. You flicked your eyes to his face.

“Do you like being my good boy?” You asked, a sultry tone falling over you. You felt him tense up. You trailed your fingertips down his chest. His breathing quickened when your hand landed on the bulge in his jeans. “I think you do.”

Dean swallowed down the shame he felt. He was supposed to be the big, bad hunter, not this. He squeezed his eyes shut when you leaned in to kiss his neck.

“You like being told what to do, baby?” You purred. A small moan fell from him before he could bite it back. You pulled away and Dean’s eyes shot open.

“Follow me.” You ordered, voice lilting softly. You turned on your heel and began to walk to your room. When you didn’t hear footsteps behind you, you wondered if you had messed up. Maybe he was uncomfortable, not turned on.

You had almost started to crawl under your bed to die from embarrassment when your ears caught the fall of his socked feet on the floorboards. You turned to face him.

“Get on the bed.” You pointed to where you wanted him. Your voice wavered slightly. You weren’t used to this, giving orders. It was… nice.

Dean sat in the spot and looked up at you. You bit your lip and walked closer until you were standing in between his legs. His hands flew to the backs of your thighs and pushed you so you were straddling his lap. Oh, Dean wasn’t completely powerless after all. You pushed your hips down into his.

“Do you wanna fuck me, De? Wanna feel me squeeze around your cock when I come?” You breathed into his ear and bit down on his earlobe just enough to pull a noise from him. His hands gripped your ass.

“Yes.” Dean breathed out. You licked your lips and kissed him. He kissed you back hungrily.

You pushed his chest, causing him to fall back onto the bed. Your fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his flannel. You ran your nails down his exposed chest. It didn’t leave any scratches, but it did make Dean groan.

“Are you gonna be a good boy and let me take what I need?” You asked. Dean nodded. You smiled and he could see the flash of desire in your eyes. You bent down and licked up his abs. If you were going to do this, you would take full advantage of it.

“Mmm, nice and hard for me?” You hummed out when your clit brushed against his bulge through your leggings.

“Yes,” Dean hissed in pleasure, “all for you.”

You rolled your hips down again and moaned theatrically. Sure, it felt good, but you liked the way he reacted to your noises more than the actual pressure. Just as you had hoped, Dean squeezed your ass again.

You stood from him and raised an eyebrow when he whined in protest. Who knew Dean Winchester was so needy? Oh right, you did.

You stripped for him. It was all for his pleasure. You were just having fun making him feel good. Your arms pulled your shirt up slowly, hands kneading your breasts through the fabric before exposing them to him. His mouth was practically watering at the sight.

You turned your back to him. Your fingers hooked around the waistband of your leggings and you worked them down your legs. You were a little clumsy pulling them off your feet, but Dean didn’t see to mind. The only thing between him and your throbbing core were the lacy green panties. You thanked past-you for choosing the pair, knowing the color matched his eyes almost perfectly. You shuffled them off and let them hang from your finger, dangling them in front of Dean’s face.

He leaned his head forward just enough to stick his nose into the wet patch, moaning at the idea that he had anything to do with this. You licked your lips again and dropped the underwear to the ground. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off with another push. He fell back to the bed and you crawled on top of him.

“Have a taste, baby.” You encouraged, positioning yourself over his face. Dean blew out a breath to steady himself. You moaned softly at the pressure, hands resting on his where they held your thighs. You almost demanded he do something to pleasure you, but the words were forgotten when his tongue stuck out and licked up your slit. Your breath hitched in your lungs when he pulled you down, putting all your weight on his face.

His nose nudged at your clit while he ate away, his hunger for you tearing through any restraint he had left. You buckled over in pleasure when he groaned into you, the vibration tearing through your pussy.

“Don’t stop,” you practically begged, forgetting for a moment that you were the one in control. You felt his tongue push into your hole. It didn’t go too deep, but between the muscle inside of you, his nose nudging on your clit, and his lips moving against you, it was becoming too much. You whined out his name when your climax came, grinding down on his face.

You were feeling pretty good right now, but you wanted more. You clambered off of him and turned to sit just above his head. His lips were swollen and he was smiling like an idiot, but you figured he wasn’t too pussydrunk to listen to you.

“Take your jeans off.” You demanded. You were surprised at the strength in your voice, the bossiness you thought you only had when you were angry shining through. You watched him do as you told, mouth slightly parted when his dick sprang up and hit his stomach. His eyes trailed to you and he waited for the next order, fists balling up to keep from grabbing at you.

You tore your eyes from his length to blink up at him.

“Come fuck me.” You said simply, but it was like they were Dean’s trigger words. He launched himself at you, dragging your body to the edge of the bed. Caught up in the moment, he pushed into you without a condom. That would be tomorrow’s problem. Now, you were only worried about how many times he could get you to come.

“So tight,” Dean moaned, thrusting his hips into you. Your eyes fluttered to the ceiling.

“S’all for you, Dean.” You managed to get out. “All for my good boy.” You were making a point of using that until he told you to stop, not that it would be any time soon. The name made him choke out a breath and increase his pace.

“Ah!” You seethed when his hip bone bumped against your clit continually, back arching up. You grabbed his face in your hand and squeezed his cheeks together before kissing him.

“You’re fucking me so good, baby.” You moaned out. You felt his hips stutter for a moment. He needed help, the praise was getting to him. You managed to flip him over. He was now on his back and you were on top of him. You don’t know where the strength had come from.

You lifted your hips before slamming them back down. The tip of his cock sponged against your g-spot and you sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods above for giving Dean that slight curve. You cried out when his thumb rubbed into your clit, Dean returning the noise when you clenched around him.

“You’re such a good boy, listen to everything I say,” you babbled, rubbing your hands over your breasts. You rolled your eyes back, the words meant for Dean somehow increasing your own pleasure.

“Gonna come,” Dean warned you, swallowing when your eyes shot open. He watched a crazed look cross your face.

“No!” You bit out. You sucked in a breath while you continued to ride him. “You don’t come until I say you can.”

Dean choked on his protests. His head flung back in both concentration and ecstasy. Fuck, he wanted to come but you holding him back was making it so much better. You panted out short breaths, almost hyperventilating. You reached a hand down to squeeze his balls, smiling menacingly when he gripped the sheets on the bed. It’s not like you enjoyed seeing him in pain, but knowing that you held so much control over him had a flurry of ideas flooding through you.

“Can I come?” Dean whined. You were close, oh so close, to another orgasm, but not quite there yet.

“N-no.” You stuttered out, eyes closing again to keep up your stamina. You honestly didn’t know you had it in you to move like this, with this much energy. You chalked it up to the new experience. If you had known it felt this good to be in power you would have done it a long time ago. Then again, maybe it was just from being with Dean.

“Please, baby, please.” Dean begged, voice going up an octave when you rolled your hips down. You ignored him. He wouldn’t allow the release until you gave him the magic word.

You looked down at him again. Your chest warmed to see Dean reduced down to this whiny, needy mess underneath you. You wondered if any other girl had done this for him, if he had ever let them take control. You liked to imagine that you were the first, that you would be the thing that Dean would remember every time he was able to be submissive.

The thought made your knees buckle and you keeled over, forehead on Dean’s chest. You tried to lift your hips up again, but it was more of you grinding down onto him.

“Now.” You gasped. Dean made a strangled noise and you felt the warmth of his cum bloom into you. You breathed into his skin and swore you could see stars as your own release flooded into you. You closed your eyes to focus on it, your eyelashes butterflying against his abs.

Dean’s arms wrapped around you to tousle you to the side. He was still inside of you, his dick now soft. You were curled up against him, body wore out. You couldn’t remember a time when you had come so hard.

“We have to do that again.” You mumbled. Dean was able to find the energy -- from where, you didn’t know -- to chuckle. He stroked your hair, fingers tangle in between the strands.

“Later.” He answered, breathing in the scent of your hair. Your skin was tacky with sweat, and you were sure there would be many, many questions that needed to be answered tomorrow, but for now, you fell asleep in his arms, his dick still stretching you out.

[hazelira]

little rebel

Ni-ki was all sharp edges and cold glares, the kind of guy who made people step aside without a word. On the other hand, you were soft-spoken, the quiet storm beside him, wrapped in oversized band tees, ripped jeans, and smudged eyeliner. A matching aesthetic but opposite auras. He was the fire; you were the slow-burning ember.

And then there was him.

A tiny, fragile thing wrapped in a black onesie with skull prints nestled against your chest, his tiny fingers curled into your shirt. Your baby boy. Ni-ki’s son. A piece of both of you, somehow softer than either of you ever thought you could be.

Ni-ki leaned against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, watching you hum absentmindedly as you swayed with your son. His face was unreadable, but you could tell—he was fighting something.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” you murmured, adjusting your hold on the baby.

Ni-ki scoffed, running a hand through his messy, oreo dyed hair. “Like what?”

“Like you’re afraid.”

Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, stretching between you both like the night sky.

Then—

“I don’t wanna mess him up,” he muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. His jaw clenched. “I don’t wanna mess you up.”

Your heart ached. You stepped forward, gently bouncing your son in your arms. “Ni-ki…”

“I’m not like you,” he continued, voice lower now. “You’ve always been quiet, careful, good. I’m—” He let out a bitter laugh. “I barely know how to be a person, let alone a dad.”

You reached out with your free hand, grabbing his wrist before he could run like he always did. His skin was warm, his pulse quick beneath your fingers. He never got used to how easily you could break through him.

“You’re here,” you whispered, tugging him closer. “That’s enough.”

He exhaled sharply, gaze flickering to your son. His son. Sleeping soundly despite his father’s demons. Ni-ki swallowed hard, hesitating before brushing a finger over the baby’s cheek.

“Yeah?” His voice cracked just slightly.

You nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “Yeah.”

Ni-ki closed his eyes, breathing you in.

Ni-ki never thought he’d be the type to get soft. But here he was, standing in a dimly lit bedroom with you and his son—the two things he swore he’d never deserve.

The baby stirred in your arms, a tiny yawn escaping his lips before he settled again. Ni-ki’s gaze softened, his calloused fingers barely ghosting over the kid’s cheek.

“He looks like you,” he mumbled.

You huffed a quiet laugh. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.” His fingers trailed to the baby’s tiny hand, watching it instinctively grasp his pinky. His heart clenched. “But he’s got my attitude, I bet.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “God help us.”

Ni-ki chuckled, his lips brushing against your temple before he sighed, shifting uncomfortably. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up one day, and this—” he gestured vaguely to the quiet life you had built, the warmth of it, the normalcy—“will be gone.”

You frowned, reaching up to cup his face. “Ni-ki.”

He swallowed, dark eyes flickering with something raw. “I don’t know how to be what he needs. What you need.”

Your brows knitted together. “You’re already what we need.”

He shook his head, pulling away slightly. “I grew up thinking love was temporary. That people leave. That no one stays long enough to fix things.” He exhaled, staring at the baby, who still had his pinky in a tight grip. “But you’re still here. He’s here. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

You took his hand, guiding him to sit beside you on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and for a second, he looked smaller. Like the boy he used to be before the world made him sharp.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” you whispered. “Together.”

His throat bobbed. Slowly, he nodded.

The baby squirmed, his tiny face scrunching up before he whined softly. Without thinking, Ni-ki scooped him up, resting him against his chest.

You stared, surprised. “Look at you.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, but there was no bite.

The baby nuzzled into his hoodie, sighing in content.

Ni-ki froze as if the weight of his son had suddenly settled into his soul.

You watched as something shifted in his expression—fear melting into something deeper, something softer. He pressed a hesitant kiss to the baby’s forehead, eyes fluttering shut.

Ni-ki had never felt anything like this—this fragile weight against his chest, small and warm, like something sacred. His son. His actual son.

The baby scrunched his tiny nose, letting out a shaken coo, the sound almost questioning, as if he was asking to be held correctly by his dad. His tiny arms flailed, one hand smacking against Ni-ki’s chest, the other grazing his arm with a surprising amount of strength for someone so tiny.

Ni-ki blinked.  

It was weird. The way his son moved reminded him of Bisco, his dog, whenever he held him like a baby. But this wasn’t just some pet he could cradle for fun. This was a real baby. His baby.  

His throat went dry.  

“Uh… what do I do?” he muttered, looking at you in panic.  

You chuckled, reaching out to adjust how he held your son. “You support his head more like this.” Your hands guided his, settling the baby into a secure position against Ni-ki’s chest.  

The baby whined at first, legs kicking, face scrunched up like he was about to scream—but then, as if realizing this was precisely where he wanted to be, he nuzzled into Ni-ki’s hoodie. A deep sigh left his tiny lips, warm breath against his father’s collarbone.  

Ni-ki’s entire body stiffened.  

The baby was so close. So tiny.  

And he trusted him completely.  

“… Oh,” Ni-ki breathed, staring at the little bundle in his arms. “He—he’s just… chilling here.”  

You grinned. “Yeah. He likes you.”  

The words hit deeper than they should have. Ni-ki’s chest tightened. “You think so?”  

“I know so.” You rested a hand on his arm. “Babies can tell when they’re safe.”  

Safe.  

Ni-ki had never thought of himself as safe before, not with how he carried himself—grunge hoodies, ripped jeans, sharp glares that kept people away. But looking down at his son, tiny fingers clutching onto the fabric of his hoodie, he realized that this little thing didn’t care about any of that.  

He was just his.  

Ni-ki swallowed hard, hesitantly lifting a hand to brush his thumb over his son’s round cheek. His skin was soft. Warmer than he expected. A tiny, perfect human.  

His son cooed again, snuggling even deeper against him.  

Ni-ki let out a slow breath, sinking into the moment.  

He was holding his baby.  

And for once in his life, he didn’t want to run.

requested by: @mochijoshi

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