#on bad days (or days where he is metal working)

[ladykailitha]

You're a Dream to Me Part 1

I've been really struggling with Dragon Slayer and trying to get it so that it makes sense, so I'll be cycling in some of the other WIP I have in the wings until I can get it sorted out.

I thought I had another week to try and get the kinks ironed out, but I didn't.

And it ends on a bit of cliffhanger, though not the cliffhanger I original had. Which means that the NEXT chapter will ALSO have a cliffhanger. Once I get the kinks worked out of that chapter.

I hate it when stories fight me. I haven't had one this bad since the first soulmate story "Batshit Soulmates". But I will not abandon it. It just will take longer to come out then originally planned.

So! You're getting this one instead! It has a very lovely backlog and it's a great time to start putting it out because it's Valentine's Day month!

The title comes from The Cranberries song of the same name.

Summary: In a world where dreams show your true soulmate when you need them most, Steve has been having his for years but because his soulmate isn't ready yet, he's never seen what his soulmate looks like. Eddie has been having dreams about Steve Harrington since high school but more in the vein of wet dreams rather than soulmate. But when Brian's soulmate turns out to be a sweet girl who hadn't heard a heavy metal song in her life, suddenly Eddie realizes he needs to stop expecting his soulmate to look a certain way.

~

Soulmates. The world was filled with them, but only when you needed them. So there were people who went about the world without a single dream or vision. That was how you knew who they were. You would start dreaming of a person and that would be your soulmate. But only when both of you were ready.

Which meant that sometimes one soulmate went without for awhile, but the knowledge of their soulmate being out there was enough to keep them going. Sometimes they married other people or dated around. There was none of this “waiting” for their soulmate. People lived their lives as normal.

People who were married when they discovered their soulmates had a lot of options, including polyamory. Because sometimes the soulmate was platonic.

Steve had been so sure his was platonic because he started having dreams of his soulmate right out of high school, around the time he started working with Robin at Scoops Ahoy! but she knew her soulmate. Vickie Cameron. They were super sweet together.

Steve had seen all his friends get their soulmates, the hardest had been Nancy and Jonathan, because Nancy hadn’t told him she had been dreaming of her soulmate. She just told him in a drunken slur that their love was bullshit and then proceeded to sleep with Jonathan before Steve and her had even officially broken up.

Then he met Robin and for all their connectiveness, they weren’t soulmates. A thought that vexed Robin greatly. She thought it was the universe’s greatest sin that it didn’t see the chaotic potential of the two of them.

Dustin had come home the summer Steve had met Robin all rosy-cheeked and smiling. He had met his soulmate, Suzie Bingham and she was everything bright and beautiful in the world. Steve had patted him on the back, grateful that he hadn’t been left out of his friend group. And while the others hadn’t soulamated yet, but it was a pretty sure thing that Max and Lucas were soulmates and that at least two points of the Mike, Will, and El love triangle were soulmates.

It would be a year before it shook out that it was Will and Mike, as El didn’t seem to need a soulmate. Mike had had some internalized homophobia he had to battle first before he could accept that his soulmate wasn’t El, but Will.

It would be another two years before Max and Lucas sorted it out. It was their senior year and Max realized that the only person she wanted to spend her life with was Lucas and the universe confirmed it for them. Lucas had been having his dreams since they met, but they only solidified when she accepted that their love was real.

Steve’s dreams of his soulmate had always been hazy. He would dream of them curling up behind him in bed and pressing kisses to his neck or just star gazing. Those were his favorite, when they would just lay on the top of some, he assumed trailer or RV, and just talk for hours. He couldn’t hear their voice, or see their face, but he was almost 98% sure they were a man.

When he had told his parents they had scoffed. Gay soulmates were a myth made up by degenerates and deviates trying to push their agenda down everyone else’s throats. But as his father ranted and raved, Steve watched his mother. She would nod and agree, but the light behind her eyes was gone.

He strongly suspected that her soulmate was a woman, but she didn’t dare toe the line. Steve honestly felt sorry for her. And whoever her soulmate was, waiting her not to be homophobic.

It was a stormy night when his first clear dream happened. Steve’s job at the bookstore had kept him late and he had fallen face first into his pillow, with only kicking off his shoes and removing his belt.

It started out like it normally did. Steve was in a large bed in the trailer/RV snuggled up into the piles of blankets and comforters. The rain had carried through to the dream and pounded against the metal roof of their home. His back was to the door.

The front door opened and Steve could hear the sound of rain intensify and then return to its soft pattering as the door closed behind whoever had come in. Steve could hear the jangling of the guy’s belt and chains, he supposed, as the man undressed.

Then he slipped under the covers and pulled Steve close. “Hey, Stevie,” the warm voice murmured and in Steve’s drowsy state in the dream he didn’t even realize he understood what was said for the first time.

Kisses pressed against the back of his neck and Steve smiled fondly. He turned in his dream and snuggled in close. He buried his head into the soft curls at the nape of his soulmate’s neck and sighed happily.

“Someone is snuggly tonight,” the man rumbled.

But before Steve could raise his head to press a kiss to the underside of his soulmate’s jaw, suddenly there was a blazing alarm going off in his head and he was jolted awake.

But just like every other soulmate dream he had the memories of which came flooding back in the moment he could think straight.

“Holy shit!” He dove for his phone and immediately called Robin.

“Steven Abernathy Harrington,” she groused groggily into her phone, “you better have a good reason for waking me up before dawn on my day off.”

“I heard my soulmate in my dream last night.”

Then he counted down in his head, bobbing his head with it. Five, four, three, two, one...

“What?!” she screamed. “Are you fucking with me right now? No, don’t answer that. This is too important for you to lie about. And it’s definitely a guy?”

Steve hummed in the affirmative, biting on his thumb. “He sound so super sweet, too. It was warm and rumbly and I almost want to say familiar.”

There was silence on the line for a beat or two. “So maybe someone you already know?”

“That’s what it felt like,” Steve confirmed. “It was like I finally came home at last. I just wonder what happened in his life to be ready for a soulmate when he wasn’t before.”

Robin tsked. “There is no need for that kind of talk,” she huffed. “That will just lead down a dark path. It doesn’t matter why it took him so long. He’s ready now. Or at least more ready than he was before. But you’ll just have to keep dreaming of that lover boy of yours.”

“Thanks, Rob,” he murmured. “You’re bestest friend a guy could hope for.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she teased. “Now, excuse me while I go back to bed and sleep.”

“Sleep well.” He ended the call and pressed the phone against his lips. He wanted to go back bed and dream more. But he had store to open and a job to do. One he loved, no less. So reluctantly he got out of bed to start his day.

~

Eddie woke up that morning feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. He wished he could blame it on a hangover from partying all night, but no. He had crashed face first into his pillow from the long ass drive they had taken to get into Dayton the second he had gotten checked-in.

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He had dreamed about Steve Harrington. Again. This crush was getting wildly out of hand. But then it had been since he watched Billy Hargrove and him playing against each other in a skins game. Steve was on the skins team and hooboy.

Those shorts sat a little too low on his hips to be decent and the towel tucked into the back of them sought to bring them even further down. It was fucking sinful.

The dream had started as they always had, him slipping into his bedroom in his Uncle Wayne’s trailer and taking off his clothes. But then the dream changed from the usual hot sex to Steve cuddling up under his chin.

Eddie had gotten breathless from the idea of Steve initiating the sex for the first time in the dream when suddenly there was a knock on his door jolting him awake.

The knocking persisted, forcing him to his feet. He shuffled over to the door and swung it open, rubbing his eyes.

On the other side of the door was his manager, Chrissy Cunningham. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Just what the fuck do you call this time?” she hissed at him, pushing him into the hotel room. “We have to be at sound check in an hour. Hurry and get your shower, I’ll have clothes ready for you when you get out.”

Eddie hurried to do as he was told. He must have forgotten to set his alarm before pillow diving. He scrubbed his face in the shower, trying to get the dream out of his head. But it lingered in a way the didn’t normally.

He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Sorry, Chris. I must have either forgot to set the alarm or I slept right through it.”

Chrissy pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I know. You’re usually so good at it. So I’m not mad, just frustrated because we’re running late.”

Eddie nodded and then turned around to drop towel and scrambled to put on the clothes she had laid out for him and then ducked back into the bathroom to do his hair. With his insistence to keep it long, it was a bit of hassle to keep it from frizzing out. Then he was ready.

Once they were in the car that would be taking them to the venue, Chrissy leaned over and asked, “Hey are you okay? You aren’t usually late.”

Which was true, despite all of the ADHD-ness of all of him, he was stickler for being on time, early if he could help it.

He shook his head. “Dreams, man. Some dreams just knock you out until they’re done with you.”

Jeff rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Meaning he was too embarrassed to answer the door because he had another wet dream of...” his voice went falsetto, “Steve Harrington!”

“Fuck off!” Eddie snarled. He knew that it was a long running joke with his other bandmates, but today it felt like it crossed a line.

Jeff blinked at him for a moment. “Okay, definitely didn’t come if he’s that grumpy. Shit, dude, no need to rip my head off.”

“I’d have to attest to the not coming,” Chrissy said with a gentle elbow in Eddie’s side to show that she was joking, “he looked all cute and sleep rumpled this morning. I know the ‘no longer horny’ look, and this wasn’t it.”

“But it’s still obvious he dreamed of Steve,” Brian huffed with a barely suppressed smile. “He’s got that far away look in his eyes that he only gets when he thinks about his loverboy.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes and pulled out his earbuds. He stuck them in his ears and turned up his music as loud as he could, staring out the window.

Jeff and Chrissy glanced at each other and grimaced. Whatever this was with Eddie, it wasn’t usual Eddie drama.

“So is your soulmate coming to the concert, Bri?” Chrissy asked, choosing to ignore the brooding Eddie for the moment. “I can have the box office comp a couple of tickets if you wanted.”

Brian brightened up. “That would be great! Sophie was saying that she’d never been to a live concert before.”

“Man,” Gareth groaned throwing back his head roughly against the seat cushion. “You really lucked out on the soulmate department. Sophie is sweet, hot, and bakes like a fucking pro!”

Brian shook his head. “It’s not my fault your soulmate is a diva. Like the real lucky one is Jeff who got his like right after we got a record deal. She’s been his ride or die like the whole time.”

Jeff sighed happily. “I really, really did. I wish she could have made it out this tour, but gestating twins isn’t easy being in one place, I can’t imagine doing it on the road.”

Gareth kicked the seat between Chrissy and Eddie. “We all thought it was going to be you and Eddie for sure.”

Eddie just sneered and went back to gazing out the window. He had too. Chrissy was everything he thought he wanted in a soulmate. Yeah, she was a former cheerleader, but she liked heavy metal and was a perfect mix of sweet and sassy. She never put up with his bullshit but was there when he hit his lowest point.

But then Chrissy met her soulmate and Eddie was forced to reevaluate his whole life choices. Chrissy’s soulmate was a bassist for an all female metal band called Lilith’s Little Monsters. Georgia was a perky blonde in three inch heels and ripped denim.

That was when he realized he was gay. That liking the same gender was okay. So he went into the whole homosexuality feet first and swinging. He was so sure that the reason he hadn’t gotten his soulmate dreams yet was because he had thought it was a girl, but when Georgia came screaming into their lives at Hellfest last year, he still didn’t start receiving them.

But that was before sweet Sophie came into their life. She wasn’t a metalhead like Miranda or Georgia nor a musician like Leon, Gareth’s soulmate. Leon played violin in an alt rock band. Which was still pretty badass. He was also a bit of a bitch, but that’s what happens when your soulmate was Gareth Hughes. Sophie would absolutely be mistaken as a soccer mom and president of the PTA. She radiating wholesome vibes, which Brian absolutely needed in his life.

That his soulmate could be anyone really opened Eddie up to the endless possibilities. And fuck wasn’t that a kick in the head.

~

Tag List: TEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[goddessofroyalty]

How do jayce and viktor end up dealing with jayce’s disability. Especially since its such a role reversal of their dynamics when they first met.

So quick little side comment but relevant here - in the way I'm going with Zaun Family Viktor's leg still isn't fully 'healed'. Yes it's much better than it was when he did get to the point where they started actively trying to fight back the illness laying waist to his body but it's not 100%. He can like do a 100 meter sprint if he needs or wants to but will pay for it afterwards and does wear his brace most of the time and still uses at least his cane to provide additional support. The Machine Herald armor was partially designed as a full-body brace but he doesn't live in it. When he's not in the MH armor he's probably around his Act One level of mobility except for the added ability to over-extend more in a short burst if he wants (but afterwards has to rest or use his crutch instead of his cane until he can rest).

Another quick comment - at least most of the places they live or work in frequently have already been made accessible to the level Jayce needs because of Viktor.

I think Jayce does mostly take it in his stride. That isn't to say he isn't frustrated about certain things about it. I think especially the level of fatigue that happens when he puts his weight on his bad leg for long periods of time especially when he's doing something physically intense like metal working annoys him a lot. But overall he doesn't really feel like he's broken or there's something wrong with him for it - it is what it is they can work around it (they way they always have with Viktor's). He does get a new understanding of Viktor's frustrations about his disability and Jayce probably feels terrible about complaining because Viktor's been dealing with this his whole life.

Viktor is understanding but he does sometimes finish Jayce's complaints for him because, yes, he well knows these frustrations well (which Jayce then always apologizes for complaining and Viktor has to correct that, no, it is fine for him to complain, Viktor just understands). But Jayce was always patient with him even when he was at his most frustrated about a situation and lashing out because of it, he can be patient with Jayce as Jayce adapts to this.

Viktor when not in his machine herald armor is probably still a little bit worse than Jayce in that he does more need his cane while Jayce can mostly get away with just the leg brace. But they do at the end of the day kind of trade off who is doing those end-of-day tasks based on who overexerted themselves worse that day.

An thing to consider as well is that Jayce probably made it worse because of not letting it to rest and heal properly because of the focus on defeating the Piltover occupation. And he was probably warned that if he didn't rest and give it the time to heal he'd likely need a brace for the rest of his life and his response was very "that's fine". Getting Ambessa and her forces out of Piltover is far, far more important to him than not needing to wear a leg brace the rest of his life.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Whatever it is you’ve been doing

Written for the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Secret Date on the Kissing Booth bonus card and Date on the regular one

Rated: T

Tags: Omegaverse; Alpha!Steve; Omega!Eddie; Secret relationship, Courting rituals, Fluff

Notes: Set in the same verse as Whatever you want it to be.

Dustin Henderson is confused, and Eddie can tell that he's going to make it everybody's problem. 

He glowers at Eddie from under his hat as Steve herds his friends and him into the living room of Harrington Manor, frowns as they unpack their dice and gives snippy replies as Steve takes everyone's pizza order. He calms down a little after that, as they get started with their campaign, but by the time Steve returns with the food, his mood sours again. 

“Extra cheese and no pineapple for Wheeler,” Steve says, handing over Mike's order, then plops down on the couch, right next to where Eddie is sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “And these are for you.” 

Eddie blinks at the box that's shoved in his direction. Steve wiggles it, smile bright and eager. 

“Pizza knots with pepperoni,” he singsongs. Like he thinks it's charming. Like offering a guy greasy fast food in a soggy cardboard box and making bad sex puns is high-level seduction. 

The problem is it's working. 

“Keep your knots to yourself, Harrington,” he drawls, just for the heck of it, because the last thing that dork needs is to think he’s some sort of modern-day Don Juan. “I didn't order anything.” 

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't stop smiling. 

“I know,” he says, opening the box and grinning at the audible rumble of Eddie’s stomach. “But I also know they're your favorite. C'mon, they're on me. We can even share if-” 

“What the hell is going on with you two?” Dustin blurts, slamming his hands down on the sofa table and sending their figurines scattering. 

Steve measures him with an unimpressed look and takes a bite out of his first pizza knot. 

“What d’you mean?” 

Dustin groans. Tugs on his basecap. Throws his hands out in a dramatic, all-encompassing gesture. Next to him, Lucas dodges to the side, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the face.

“What do I- … This! All of this! Why are we holding Hellfire at your house? Why are you buying Eddie food? Why are you two suddenly joined at the hip when you were barely even acknowledging each other’s existence two weeks ago?”

Eddie trades a glance with Steve before he turns back to Dustin with blank stare. It’s hard, because the kid’s left eyebrow is twitching funnily and he needs to muster up all of his willpower to not burst out laughing.

“Okay? I don’t get it, Henderson.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees around half a mouthful of cheese. “You’ve been nagging me about what a great guy Eddie is for literal months, and now that we’re finally getting along, that’s also a problem?”

“I wanted you to be friends!” Dustin whines. “Not- … Not whatever it is you’ve been doing! Hell, the other day at the gas station, you bought him a pen!” 

“Because he always steals mine and I thought he might like it,” Steve shrugs. “It was shaped like a dragon and had those little sparkly stones for eyes.”

Eddie smiles at him. “It’s a very metal pen, thank you.”

“See?” Dustin blurts. “That’s exactly what I mean! Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were courting!”

Next to him, Mike rolls his eyes. “Oh, please, they can’t be courting. Eddie’s a beta.”

Dustin gives him an scathing look. “He dated your sister and she’s an alpha.”

“That was before she presented,” Mike retaliates. “They broke up after that.”

“Hey, shitheads,” Steve says, pointing his pizza knot at them. “I didn’t break up with Nancy because she presented as an alpha. And you don’t gossip about other people’s love life. Least of all while they’re in the same room.”

Dustin looks like he’s about to argue, but Steve draws himself up to his full height and crosses his arms. The warning rumble that bubbles from his throat is so low it’s barely even there, but it still has the desired effect. The kids deflate and avert their eyes. Which is just as well, because if they kept looking, they’d probably see how Eddie has gone suspiciously red in the face and has started squirming in his spot. 

“Jeez, okay,” Dustin mumbles. “Sorry, I guess.” 

“It’s okay,” Steve says. “Now go back to your nerd game, I’d like you to go home at some point.” 

*

Mrs. Henderson swings by on her way back from work to pick up the brood, so Steve takes the empty glasses and pizza cartons to the kitchen while Eddie clears away the mess in the living room. He’s just assembled his notes on the campaign into something that halfway resembles a neat stack when a pair of arms wraps around his waist and pulls him back into a soft, warm body. Steve noses at the scent gland on his neck, even though there’s not much to smell now that Eddie is back on his repressants. Eddie still sighs and tilts his head to give him better access.

“Those little gremlins are too curious for their own good,” Steve mutters. Since his mouth is all but welded to Eddie’s neck, his voice comes out slightly muffled. It sends a pleasant shiver down Eddie’s spine and makes a familiar warmth stir in his belly.

“Tell me about it,” Eddie says, hands finding Steve’s and entangling their fingers. In the kitchen, some cheesy love song is blaring from the radio. Steve starts swaying the both of them to the melody and Eddie lets him. “You might wanna try and keep the sexy, macho, alpha act to a minimum though, if you don’t want me to pop a boner in front of our little sheepies. That, and the courting gifts.” 

“I’ve been so subtle about it,” Steve grouses, spinning him around and out before wrapping him back into his arms. “Goddamn pizza knots and pens. You deserve much better gifts. You deserve to be taken on proper dates.” 

“Hey now!” Eddie hits his chest. “Don’t insult the pen. I meant what I said, I like it a lot.”

Steve pouts, but his scent goes earthier and more intense, as always when he’s pleased. 

“Maybe we should just tell them,” Eddie mumbles into Steve's chest as they keep moving to the music. “They're two steps away from figuring it out, anyhow.” 

Steve gently pushes him away, so that he can measure him with a quizzical look. The pine needle note in his scent has gone sharper. More protective. Eddie realizes he's getting better and better at telling his emotions from these subtle shifts, even with his senses dulled by the meds.

“Would you be okay with that? You said you didn't want anyone to know.” 

Eddie shrugs. “They're a bunch of loud-mouthed little goblins, but they're good kids at heart. I feel like they'd handle it okay. And I'll probably need to come out about it at some point, if we want to continue this.” 

Steve frowns, unconvinced, folding him up in his arms and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. 

“When you're ready. When you're absolutely sure you wanna do this. Not a day earlier, okay?” 

A part of Eddie thinks he'll never be ready, but he knows that it's the scared and cowardly part that also thought he'd never open up to Steve. Another, more stubborn and possessive part of him wants to climb out on the roof and proclaim their courtship for all of this goddamn town to hear. Tell everyone that Steve is his just as much as he is Steve’s. 

What he does, in the end, is melt into Steve's embrace and kiss the junction of his neck and shoulder, grinning at the sharp intake of breath and distinct spike of arousal in his scent. 

“Okay,” he agrees. He'll be ready one day, and they'll figure out their way when the time comes. “But for now … take me upstairs?” 

More Steddie Bingo

[beef-brisket]

((Ohmygod- he left his yard!

And eat double shit Alastor!))

Lucifer snuggled up in his blankets. He couldn't believe he did that. He's never even thought of going over there before.

And if he ignored how quickly his heart was beating and how much his hands were shaking, it wasn't too bad. He didn't see Alastor, and the walk... was okay. Nothing happened.

He hoped Adam didn't mind him dailing before he got to the door, but Lucifer had a feeling he'd understand.

-

Lucifer stood at his door, the morning light streamed into his house. It looked gorgeous outside. There was a light mist, and the grass had dew on it. Lucifer loved mornings like this.

Tightening the band of his dressing gown, he opened the door and made his way to the letter box.

He almost jumped when he saw Adam standing eith his back facing him.

What was he doing?

Lucifer cleared his throat, and worked up the courage to say something: N-Nice morning, huh?

Jumping, Adam turned and smiled brightly at Lucifer. He swore the guy was made out of literal sunlight or something.

Adam: Hey, Lu! Yeah, it's great, huh?

Lucifer nods: You uh... you okay?

Adam: Oh, yeah. Just... stressed out, you know? Between the move, my job and... this mess.

Lucifer: Y-yeah, the previous owner- d-didn't really care...

Adam: That's an understatement... did you know that along our fence line are sunflowers?

Lucifer scanned the fence line and eyed the uncomfortable, dead looking stalks.

Lucifer: Oh- no, I didn't.

Adam: Yeah, neither did I. Look at these poor things! They look ready to turn to dust as soon as a strong breeze blows past... but I shouldn't judge. Some people don't have the time, or their sick...

Adam sighed and ran his hand through his hair: I'll get there... I like your garden, it's low maintenance, but also neat, you know? It's nice.

Lucifer smiled, and his daughter put a lot of work in maintaining his yard. And even though it's mostly just bushes and some small ground coverings, it does look good.

Lucifer: I'm sure Charlie would love to hear that.

Adam: Oh yeah? She offered to help with mine... if she's not too busy in the future, I might have to take her up on it. It's driving me crazy looking at it- and don't get me started on the backyard.

Lucifer laughed at how annoyed Adam looked. He had a pout of his face that made him look like a child about to have a tantrum.

Adam: Hey, uh... I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. Coming to your door, I mean. Your daughter and... Al, have told me a little bit about what's going with you- and I'd hate it if I did anything to make you... worry or panic- I swear, that's not what I wa t to do- fuck, now I'm panicking.

Lucifer chuckled: I-I'm okay, Adam. It was a little... jarring. But, when I saw it was you- I calmed down a little.

Adam: Oh. Oh! That's great! Holy shit, I was so worried... okay- uh, I won't do that too often, I swear! Speaking of, I should stop holding you up- I've got to go to work anyway... God.

Adam ran his hands down his face. He needed a job like Lucifer, where he never had to go anywhere. But then, Lucifer's is for medical reasons, Adam's just lazy and hates dressing up like a catholic boy going to church.

Lucifer: I... don't mind talking to you. It's... relaxing, almost. You're funny.

Adam: Oh, I know. I did a talent show when I was in primary.

Lucifer: You did?

Adam: Yeah, man. I made everyone piss themselves! I was great. Or I would have been if my talent wasn't playing one of the hardest metal guitar rifts in fucking history. Word of advice: Don't play the music of the Devil in front of nearly two hundred Christians.

Lucifer laughed: O-Okay, I'll heed that advice.

Adam: Good! And I won't charge you. Shit- I better go. Have a good day, Lu!

Lucifer: You to, Adam!

Lucifer followed Adam out- but only to the letter box.

They gave wachother a quick wave, and Lucifer watched as Adam drove off.

He chuckled when he could still hear Adam's music at the end of the street. That man's going to go deaf surely.

Charlie: Hey dad!

Lucifer smiled widely and opened the gate for his daughter. He instantly eyes the plastic container in her hands.

Lucifer: Ooh! You've been baking!

Charlie chuckled: Of course! I couldn't come empty handed.

They gave each other a hug and a quick kiss before walking inside.

Charlie: You doing okay?

Lucifer: Yes! Good- would you like a tea ot coffee?

Charlie smiled: Coffee, please dad.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.

[lee-blogs]

Still packing stuff and now i'm looking for a box for this.

My dad and i made it a few years ago for halloween, probably 2015/16 if i'm remembering right. It's made from a lays can, a wipes container from his work, and paper maché. I don't remember what the wires and front metal bits are from, but the middle actually lights up! It has one of those long battery-powered emergancy lights in it and some colored tissue paper

[ceilidho]

prompt: simon notices you in the stands (welder/amateur rugby player au). (nsfw, 1.9k)

-

She’s in the stands again, and he doesn’t know who for. 

The same bird as the time before, and the week before that. Always a few minutes into the match, like she snuck in through the backdoor. She always leaves in a hurry, up and out of her seat with her jacket already tugged on, her strides quick on her way out the main doors. 

In the years since joining this amateur league, Simon’s never been tempted to talk to any of the people in the stands. For the most part, they’re there for one of the other players anyway. Wives, girlfriends, sisters—the odd cousin or fuck buddy, those girls dipping in and out, replaced by newer, sparklier versions of each other, the older ones licked clean. 

His focus narrows when he steps onto the field anyway, shrinks like horse blinders sunk down over his skull. Hardly a reason for him to spare more than a glance towards the stands.

Rugby’s not a sport for spectators. At least, not such a low level league. Barely amateur—just some of the locals with a bit of built up stress and aggression to work off. It’s why he’s here after all. Simon spends the hours of his day hunched over sheets of metal and carbon steel, sweating into the metal mask pulled down over his face and staring without blinking into the heart of the flame just inches from his face. 

His nerves are a closed fist in his chest and it grows and grows until he steps out onto the field of the local rec centre and hears the timer overhead start to count down and feels someone’s chest cave in when he drives his shoulder into their solar plexus, hears the breath whoosh out of them, their next breath in thin and febrile. 

It sets his head right. Violence with no consequences. At the end of the game, he looks the man he just bruised and bloodied in the eye and shakes his hand. Puts the world to rights. 

And he needs nothing more than that. His bills are paid, bloodthirst sated, thirst quenched when the team hits up a pub after the match, after which he slinks off into the night to head home with his hood drawn over his head, the size of him rarely inviting more violence. Occasionally it happens that someone with the bad luck of choosing him to mug wants to prove that they have the bigger cock, but that never ends well. Not for them at least.

Simon would fight for a living if welding paid him less. As it is, he satiates that beast in him on the field or the occasional back alley, and it keeps him in check.

But now there’s a bird in the stands drawing his eye and distracting him from the match. It rubs him the wrong way. The blood pumps through his veins more viciously, and the pretty thing in the stands watches the game completely unaware, a serene smile on her face. His gaze keeps being pulled towards where she and a couple clusters of fans sit and nurse paper cups of tea.

She cups both hands around her tea and he wonders absently whether she’d have to hold his cock the same way. 

It’s Gaz who calls him out on it first, panting hard after the first period and frowning at the scoreboard. “Not to be a dick, but that was bollocks, Simon. Never seen you miss a pass like that.”

Few people could get away with speaking to him like that, but Gaz is right. He’s been playing like shit, too preoccupied by the bird watching him with wide, rapt eyes. 

He doesn’t know how to apologise though, so he doesn’t. “Graves is a useless twat. Can’t throw for shit.”

Gaz rolls his eyes. “Not saying he isn’t, but you’re distracted. Where’s your head at?”

“Stay out of it, Garrick,” he says, not even bothering to meet his gaze, the warning clear in his voice. 

“Sorry for caring,” Gaz shouts after him as Simon jogs away.

He asks around at first, trying to find out if she’s someone’s relative or girl, but all the guys just shrug, no answers. If she’s someone’s, they aren’t staking a claim on her. It’s good news for him. Bad news for anyone else taking an interest in the girl that comes to their every match to cheer them on.

His urges sit deeper than the abyssal plain.

She’d probably turn tail and run if she knew the hunger festering in his belly. She sits sweet and innocent in the stands cheering him on and all Simon can think about is pushing her knees up to her ears and feeding his fat cock into her pussy. Shoving his tongue into her cunt, licking her from hole to hole. Sucking each puffy lip into his mouth until her moans go garbled, eyes unfocused. 

No, Simon thinks when she jumps to her feet enthusiastically at the end of the match, she probably wouldn’t like that. Women rarely do. Objectifying them and all those other terms that Gaz likes to wax on about, Johnny nodding along like he isn’t the same kind of mutt as Simon. 

Even during the day, she troubles his thoughts. Troublemaker. He thinks of her when he cleans and buffs in between passes, mind not lulled into the rhythmic emptiness of usual. Even the sound of steel sizzling in his ears doesn’t clear her from his thoughts. Instead all he can think of is her walking into the shop in a little skirt and top, and dragging her to the back where he’d bend her over the closest desk and pull her panties to the side before sinking in to the hilt, mask still on. 

He’s never gotten his cock wet on the job—never been tempted to. For her though, he’d make an exception. 

By the next match, Simon’s made up his mind. When he sees her sneak in after the match has already started, he feels his blood pump harder, his tackles extra rough. His opponents walk away wincing and cursing him under their breath, but it only makes him preen when he glances over to find her watching him, hardly able to pull her eyes away. Price would call it peacocking. He wouldn’t be wrong. 

He approaches her himself at the end of the match before she’s had time to pack up and leave, leaning over the railing separating the field from the stands, covered in sweat and grass stains and bleeding from his right eyebrow.

She stares up at him wide eyed, looking a little lost for words. “Hi?”

“Got somewhere to be?” he asks, blunt. He’s never had it in him for pleasantries. Why waste time when he can see even now the way her eyes rove over his chest appreciatively? 

“…No,” she finally answers, shaking her head. “Just home for supper.”

“Look like you could use a good fuck. Come round back with me?”

The blatant proposition makes her eyes widen, but Simon doesn’t see the problem. Figures if she doesn’t have a man, there’s no issue with him trying out for the part. He waits her out though, vaguely admiring the pert shape of her mouth, lips round with shock. 

Finally they come back together and she chews on her lower lip nervously, caught off-guard but considering it. He doesn’t hold it against her. His bird’s pretty enough, but he doubts she ever puts herself in the position to be asked. He sees the yes in her eyes before she says it.

Still, he enjoys the way she stutters it out softly, eyes downcast. Simon doesn’t bother with his goodbyes to the guys still on the field before ushering her out of the arena and down the hall to the locker rooms with a hand on her back. He drags her into the first empty supply closet he finds, locking the door behind them. She breathes a bit heavily, almost stumbling over her feet, and that’s the eagerness he’s been looking for. Proof his bird’s just as hungry as him. 

She definitely is, Simon thinks, smug when he hoists her up and her legs wrap around his waist without a second thought, her eyes already glazed over. Like she’s been waiting for this for weeks, cunt already sopping wet when he nudges her panties to the side with his knuckles and buries his cock into her. She grips him like a vice, slack jawed and whimpering into the stretch. He likes that. He likes it more when she digs her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark behind. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me,” Simon huffs into her neck when she tries to grab his hair instead, what little of it she can. He stares with eyes half-lidded at the way her tits bounce with each thrust. “I like it rough.”

She clenches up at that, dripping wet. Almost a shame that he couldn’t get his mouth on her first. He’ll have to follow her back home like the mongrel he is, mess her pretty bedsheets up and make her scream until she can’t even face the neighbours the next day. 

He doesn’t need her to tell him to know that she’s a good girl, doesn’t do this ever. Only for him. He can tell by how tight of a screw she is, practically purring in his arms; it’s a fight to bully his cock into her. It’s nice when she stutters it out though, strokes his ego the right way. 

“D-didn’t think you’d notice me,” she says, all shy even with her legs spread. 

“Hard not to, pet,” Simon teases, endeared by her soft edges. His slot right in, if not a bit jaggedly. “Been panting after it for a while, haven’t ya?”

“I just wanted to get out of the flat for a bit,” she whispers.

That shifts his perception of her a bit. Infinitesimally so, but still. He didn’t expect the bird to have a lonely flame in her heart. 

“Well, I noticed,” he grunts, and then bends to suck at the salty skin at the crook of her neck before pumping a load into her.

She’s a real good girl. Comes nice on his cock and muffles her whine by biting into his shoulder. He can’t wait until he’s covered in her bites, until his nipples hurt from making her chew on them and his neck is littered with hickeys like a schoolboy. 

Taking her home is easy enough after that. She lets him drive them both back to her place, handing him the keys with a little yawn when he tucks her into the passenger seat of her own car all limp and pliant. 

And he’s right, of course. He makes a right mess of her bed come morning. 

When he leaves after a morning fuck in the shower and breakfast, the cold sinks into his stomach like a lead weight. The fist in his chest is clenched as ever; Simon hadn’t noticed it loosen in the bird’s presence, but he feels it now drawn tight again. Maybe he thought fucking her would finally shake her from his head, but instead it’s made it worse somehow. The lonely flame in his own chest flickers.

He stands in the middle of the sidewalk and thinks it over while angry nine-to-fivers snap at him before really taking him in and scurrying along. Then he turns back around, heading back the way he came.

The next time Simon sees her in the stands, he feels his smile like a phantom limb. He doesn’t have to ask to know she’s there for him.

[presidentsdaughter]

SOFTER, SOFTEST !

ft. curly x fem!reader

tags. piv, body worship sort of, rimming, big dick, tit job for like 2 seconds, creampie, size kink, scent kink, balls…

note. hai.. will get back to leon soon and I think mw fandom is lacking noncon and incest fics severely.. so i will get on that with jimmy. don’t know how to characterise him yet so ooc .. just infatuated with his breasts tbh i don’t know anything works in this universe LMFAO like idk just take this with a grain of salt.. for miss @pupwashing please ignore typos !! unedited :3

You miss Curly.

You miss him more than you did yesterday, more than an idiot misses the point, like a dick misses a wet pussy–You just miss him.

It has been four months. Twenty-one weeks. One-hundred and forty days. Three-thousand, five-hundred and twenty hours. Too many minutes, a hell of a lot more seconds, the closer he gets the further he seems to be.

Big numbers make it feel like you’re getting nowhere so you cut those twenty-fours into one day. One day and he’ll be home. One day and you’ll be in bed with his stomach crushed against yours, the warmth of his flesh searing yours, fucking him into next year, until he loses his halo.

Videos aren’t enough, photos don’t do him justice, toys don’t live up to the feel of a real dick. You miss that face he makes when he cums - it’s a block away from his crying face. You miss him face down, ass up, punching holes into his dignity one thrust at a time. God, you miss that dick, how he goes red all over, him in nothing but that stupid fucking smile.

One day, you tell yourself in the mirror that morning. One day, you tell yourself when you take your lunch break. One day, one more microwaved meal for one, one more lonely night.

It used to be a big deal, you think. The whole going to space thing. Curly says it’s no big deal, but you’re pretty sure that in your great-grandpa’s heyday it was impressive. You’ve seen videos of hoards gathering to watch a ship take off, to greet crews when they landed. Today, it’s you and a plump, older woman in her bathrobe waiting in the cold.

You could spot him in any crowd, glowing like a ray of light, mostly because he’s tall, partly because everything fades into abstraction when you notice how tight his uniform is. Good god. Did he get bigger? You’re starting to sweat, it’s hard to focus when your boyfriend is making a long-sleeved jumpsuit look naughty.

Curly’s hair is a little longer, blond curls licking the nape of his neck, falling onto his forehead, his eyes are so bright and his smile is white. He looks like a policeman’s emotional support dog. A really busty support dog. He scans the sad scattering of friends, family and drivers. You’re so taken off guard by the sight of his buttons popping you almost forget to wave at him.

He beams when you spot him, suitcase dragging behind him as he jogs over. Everything is in slow motion. Like that old movie - Baywatch. He’s so excited to see you, taking you into his big arms, shoving your face in his chest like he knows just where you’d like to be. You’re disappointed in your lungs when they beg for air, lifting your head and placing it on his shoulder instead. He smells like sweat, hotel shampoo and something metallic.

“Oh.” You open your eyes and spot Jimmy skulking behind him, an unlit cigarette between his lips. You narrow your eyes at him, and Jimmy does the same. Real shady guy, the type you’d cross the street to avoid. He’s always trailing after Curly like a bad omen. “He can’t come home with us, honey,” you tell him gently, not wanting to sound like a bitch.

Which you are.

You don’t want him smoking in your car, you don’t want Curly to invite him over for takeout because that means it’ll go on for hours and you won’t get your mouth on his big, stupid dick for another day.

“Hm? Why not?” Curly asks, pressing a kiss into your hairline, the tip of his nose bumping yours tenderly.

“I don’t have space in my car for both of you and the luggage, she’s small. What if she tips over? You’re heavy enough as it is.” You smile at him, cheekily, giving his newfound hips a squeeze. They’ve always been there, but now they’re like wow. It’s only been four months, is he on steroids? Did he get pregnant? He is glowing… God knows what’s up there in the atmosphere, some cosmic horror waiting to knock up your poor boyfriend.

Curly shrugs, offering an apologetic smile to his friend. “You heard the lady.”

Jimmy’s permanent scowl seems to deepen, cementing itself in his dermal layer. “Whatever, man.” He shoves his hands into his pockets, shoulders slumped as he makes a beeline for the phonebox.

He lifts his suitcase and loads it into your car and you watch his biceps flex. You see through his clothes, you remember every freckle on his back, mapping them out like stars, leading to those dimples low on his back, the perfect resting spot for your thumbs when you grab his ass. His body is so convenient. Like he was made to be fucked every which way.

“I missed you, I thought about you everyday,” he says against your lips, leaning in to kiss you over the gearshift. “I put your picture in the cockpit actually, Jim didn’t like it, but it kept me going.”

Always so earnest. You almost feel bad for missing his body more than him.

“Aww, Curly, honey,” you coo, pinching his cheek and cupping the other, “I missed you even more.” He nuzzles into your hand, eyes closed as you comb your fingers through his messy hair.

As much as you would like to indulge his sentimentality, you have no patience to spare. If you sit here any longer, you’re going to soak through your jeans and onto your leather seat.

You put the car in drive—

“Captain? Open up!” There’s a younger man knocking on the window, leaving his grubby handprints behind. “I wanted you to meet my mom!” His voice is muffled through the glass.

You lock the windows.

“Did you lock the windows?” Curly asks, lips downturned like he’s about to pout.

You unlock the windows.

“Of course not, baby.” You pat his head and grit your teeth.

They talk for fifteen whole minutes.

Thank you for taking care of him, he can be such a handful—Oh no, not at all, he was a joy to have—I’m glad he came back in one piece—He’s a good kid—Oh, I don’t know about that—Mooom—I’d be happy to have him back for our next long haul—Seriously, Captain?—

You squirm in place, shifting from side to side, thighs pressed together as your panties stick to your core. When Curly introduces you to his crew mate, you offer a strained smile and nothing more.

The window whirs shut. You make it home in record breaking time with four tickets and only a few points taken off your license. It doesn’t matter. You’re home, inside with the curtains drawn and Curly still has clothes on.

That’s not right.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” Curly pushes his luggage into the corner, the top few buttons of his jumpsuit have come undone and you see the tuft of blond hair on his chest.

“Take it off, please?”

“My clothes?”

“No, your wig, baby.”

He laughs, good-natured, mild-mannered, and so fucking hot.

If he won’t do it then you will.

“I haven’t even showered—“ He starts, but you shush him with a kiss, murmuring a ‘good’ against his pink mouth.

When you part, spit keeps your lips connected, the string of fate or whatever. You go in for another, hands fisting the fabric of his collar, forcing him down towards you. Curly lets out a keening noise somewhere in the back of his throat like a dog scratching at the bathroom door.

“I know, my baby, I’ll give it to you.” You pout at him, thumbing his kiss-swollen lips and watching his eyes droop. “Oh no…” The buttons on his uniform when you try to open them.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles through a mouthful of his own spit, “cheap stuff.”

“I know, but you looked so good in it.” It’s a shame, but you need to see him bare, sweat as his only accessory.

“You think?” He near bats his lashes at you, stepping out of his uniform, and you swoon.

“God, yeah.” You push him down on the couch, Curly falls back with a soft grunt. It’s not very big, especially for a man of his size, but it’ll do for now.

His cock swells in his boxers, you feel it beneath you as you sit atop him, admiring the view below. The wide expanse of his chest, the sweat pooling in his collarbones, those tits. You don’t know what else they could be.

“Wow.” You take a handful of his chest, plucking his puffy pink nipple. “Look at these, I might have some competition.”

“Shut it,” he huffs out a laugh through his nose, and the tips of ears redden.

“I’m serious, baby, you’re, like, huge.” You can’t tear your eyes away from his soft flesh, moulding beneath your fingertips like dough, you could fuck them if you really wanted. “What happened out there?”

“Had a lot of spare time, I guess.” Curly smiles sheepishly, expression contorting when you bend your neck to suck his nipple into your mouth with a wet pop! His jaw slackens, and his cock jumps like it’s been given quite the fright.

You only have one complaint. His tan lines have faded. Floating through the galaxy for months on end can do that to you. You miss them, but you missed Curly more, so you’ll make do with what you have.

And you have more than enough. More than you can handle really. You can’t even get a grasp on his bicep, he’s stupidly big and your hand is on the smaller side.

You shift backwards, wet cunt dragging over his impossibly big bulge where only his underwear keeps you from him - you kind of admire your pussy for being able to take it. Your mouth moves on, hands still groping as much as you can of his chest as you lick the ridges of his stomach, it’s like he’s forged out of marble.

Softly, Curly rubs the back of your head, trying his very best to keep his eyes on you and not let them fall shut. You feel his stomach muscles rippling under your tongue. They contract when you trace around his navel, placing a sloppy kiss just below it, where a patch of curly hair leads to his wet cock.

His cock is drooling through the white fabric of his boxers, they’re soaked enough to be see-through, you spot the fat, pink head that has been missing your kisses. “You’re so wet, baby, is it all for me?”

With a pitiful noise, he tosses his head back and nods sadly. It’s funny to hear a man of his stature whine, but it suits Curly so well.

Your fingers hook in the waistband, tugging his underwear downwards until his fat cock springs out, it’s so fucking fat it weighs itself down. The leaky head twitches, pre dripping down his thick shaft, leaving a moonlit trail to his heavy balls. So full of seed they might burst.

“Oh… Poor baby.” You give them a gentle squeeze, and Curly’s eyes roll back into his skull, hips jolting upwards.

The urge to take it into your mouth right then and there is tempting, you hold back, you want to take your time with him. Make him feel special. You seat yourself between his thighs, one leg thrown over your shoulder so it’s easier to fit on the sofa. Your thumb runs along his pink slit, dribbling out pearly strands of pre that web between your fingers. Curly whimpers, biting down on his fist.

“These are cute.” You take note of his meaty thighs, how they’ve only gotten bigger, a comfier place to sit. The stretch marks don’t go unnoticed, streaking purple and pink along the milky flesh of his inner thighs like faded brushstrokes.

“Mmmph.” He blinks at you, pouty, lashes wet with impatient tears.

“Yeah, mmmph, I know, baby, be patient.” You’re a big, fat hypocrite.

His scent is stronger down here, clean and soapy, but the tang of sweat prospers, and the underlying smell of him. The smell of his pillow, the smell of his few-days old clothes, the smell of his towel after he works out.

A few more kisses here and there, using the flat of your tongue to lave over strips of his sinewy skin, leaving him spit-slicked and breathless and flushed. You hoist his other leg over your shoulder, he’s heavy, but you’re horny and it’s given you a sudden burst of vitality.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, gripping the top of the couch, one arm over his face as you lick up the seam of his balls, mouth latching to the swollen underside, where they feel heaviest.

Curly’s cock leaks into your hair, the weight brings it down to rest on your face, tip pressed into your hairline, dripping down the bridge of your nose like sweat while you make a mess of his balls. Stuffing them into your mouth one at a time, using your hand to give the lonelier one a squeeze when your lips are kissing up on another.

The kiss to his perineum is enough to make him moan. Curly knows what’s coming. You go lower, nose nestled into his balls, breathing him while your hands spread his ass cheeks apart to get to the spot you love most.

Curly’s hole is darker than the rest of him, not quite pink like his cock, ruddier. He’s tight and he smells good. So good. You’ve never minded the hair, you think it’s pretty cute. Curtains match the drapes.

Affectionately, you kiss his puffy rim, and it throbs.

He lets out a groan that is half mortified and half ready-to-blow-his-load.

“Sure,” Curly says, voice breaking as you circle his hole with the tip of your tongue. He tastes like him, musky and sweet and coppery. Curly is home and your tongue is in his ass where it belongs, wriggling its way past his pulsing rim, hopefully all the way up into his heart.

Your thumb and middle finger stretch to meet around the girth of his cock, stroking him slowly as you work open his asshole, tongue pushing back in when he pushes you out. Once you deem him wet enough, you push a single finger knuckle-deep and he cries out, hips bucking up off the couch.

Much to his dismay, which he shows in the form of a pained whimper, your hand leaves his cock to splay over his stomach and hold him down to the best of your abilities. “You have to stay still, honey.”

You feed a second finger into him, his hole squelching as you curl them inside of him. Curly clenches tight enough to cut off your blood circulation, sucking you back in when you ultimately pull them out with a lewd noise. He opens his mouth on instinct, pupils so blown out his light eyes seem dark, you push your fingers down his throat and he sucks.

“You’re so cute,” you mumble, watching him intently, he’s like a pin-up model of some sort. An X-rated action figure. “Taste good?”

“Not really,” Curly says. He’s so honest it makes you laugh. He shuffles back to rest his head on the arm of the couch, cock bobbing, still leaking like nobody’s business, leaving little droplets of wet in its wake.

It’s ready to burst, but you’re not done with him yet. You haven’t had your fill. When you spend half your time with your head between his thighs, you miss out on all the faces he pulls. So you spit on your tits to get them wet, his cock is slick enough, nothing should chafe when you squeeze his cock between them.

“Christ,” Curly grits out, brows knitting together, the second coming and he hasn’t even had his first.

“You wanna cum like this?” You ask, kneading your tits on either side of his cock, each time the tip pops up past your cleavage, it bumps your chin and leaves it slick.

“No…” He shakes his head, curls bouncing, sticking to his forehead, the hair near his nose is curlier with the added sweat. “Inside.”

“I can do that for you, babe.” You smile at him, acting like that wasn’t your plan in the first place, like you haven’t been dying for a warm creampie since he landed back on earth. You give the fat head of his dick one sloppy kiss, making sure to tongue his slit before you clamber on top of him.

It should be an easy task to get him inside, you’ve been wet for the last twenty-four hours, your pussy is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat. Slick dries on your inner thighs and your clit is buzzing, a rush of arousal passes over you like a cold wave when you lift your hips to guide his dick into you.

Oh. Wow. That’s a stretch. 

In theory, you know big Curly’s dick is. It’s a fucking horsecock, and you have eyes bigger than your stomach. You always overestimate yourself. You think you’re gonna be just fine, then his fat tip breaches your little hole, no matter how wet, and you lose it, scrambling to grasp his shoulders as your body is racked with shivers.

Curly’s kind enough to steady you, big hands finding purchase on your hips. His needy noises get through to you, and you push on, sliding down and taking him to the hilt. His dick curves upwards into your cervix, rubbing the fleshy opening as you adjust to his dick after four whole months of nothing worthwhile.

He’s so big. You’re so wet, slippery pussy slicking up his cock, and making things easier for the both of you.

“I love you.” Curly shudders, looking right into your eyes like he’s afraid to blink and miss a single thing.

“I love you too,” you tell him, eyes on his tits.

He’s so deep, feet planted on the couch as he fucks into you, unable to help himself. You get it. You’re tight, warm, and wet. Better than his fist. Your pussy is noisy, squelching each time you bottom you, grinding your clit into his pelvis, feeling his cock twitch each time you tighten around him. The plap of his balls hitting your ass when enough momentum is built up.

Curly’s helpful, when he sees you tense up, throwing your head back and rolling your hips over and over, you want him deeper and deeper, he wets his fingers with your slick and rubs figure eights into your clit.

It’s just enough to make your toes curl—Oh, who are you kidding? You near blackout when you cum, moaning so loud you scare yourself. You see black. Like someone’s drawn the curtains in your mind, ending the show. Your nails dig into his skin, but he’s always put up with that like a champ.

“Holy fuck.” Shaking still, you blink to clear your vision, you’ve wet his navel and his tummy and the couch might be ruined. You don’t even remember when he came inside you. What a shame. Feels good though, still warm. Sighing, you lay against his chest, Curly’s soft cock slips out of your hole, resting on his thigh. “Welcome home, Captain.”

[boobearymuch]

Their Habits —♡ LADS Scenarios

—♡Summary: Everyone has habits, but not everyone enjoys having you point them out... —♡Tags: gender-neutral, pure fluff —♡A/N: Silly thing I whipped up after being told I bounce my leg too much lolll —♡ masterlist

—♡ Zayne

Zayne squints so much without his glasses. He insists he only needs them when his eyes get tired—but clearly—that wasn’t the case. “Zayne, look!” You eagerly pointed out a flyer posted on the door of his favorite boba spot. They were hosting an event next weekend, it read, and encouraged customers not to miss out on the opportunity. You watched his hazel eyes sharpen into a squint.

“Event…?” He still had trouble reading it, though, and absently tugged your clasped hands forward as he leaned in for a better look. After a few seconds, his eyebrows relaxed, and he hummed appreciatively, “They’re introducing new flavors. Perhaps we should…what?” 

You failed to conceal an amused smile. “You need your glasses, old man.” The nickname was not received well, by any means.

“The text is small.” He answered coolly, “The average person would also have difficulty reading it.” Then he slipped his hand around your waist, eyes narrowing, “And I’m not old.”

You couldn’t help yourself, you laughed, “Have you considered contacts?” The look he gave you was deeply unamused, “No, no, you’re right. You look cuter in glasses, anyway.” Zayne's ears tinted pink under your playful stare. 

“...Let’s go inside before they close.” You pinched his flustered cheeks.

“Are you sure? The menu is so tiny. What if you can’t read it and order the wrong thing?” Your mouth promptly shut after his grip on you tightened in a warning. Zayne remembered to bring his glasses on your next outing (and the one after that).

—♡ Sylus

Sylus hums nonsense when it’s too quiet. It’s like he constantly needs to fill silences with some kind of noise. Even his humming is off-key…

“What song is that?” 

Sylus barely spared you a glance, “What song?” His fingers worked a microfiber cloth into the metal of his pistol. 

“The one you were just humming.”

He huffed, “Didn’t realize I was humming, sweetie.” Then he removed the cloth to admire his handiwork, “Don’t you recognize it?”

You almost felt bad for saying this but, “...No?” Sylus finally glanced up from his work to shoot you a look. A concerning one.

“Really? You had it on repeat all day, yesterday.” Horror dawned on you at the realization, “The chorus has been stuck in my head since morning…” And then a laugh sputtered from your lips. 

“Oh my god, that sounded nothing like it.” Sylus glared and returned his focus to his pistol with what you could only describe as a pout. 

“What a picky kitten.” You bit your lip to stop the smile threatening to break loose. He was a god awful singer, but the room felt emptier without his noise. Gently, you padded over to where he sat, and invited yourself onto his lap. Despite his mood, a hand wrapped around your waist without hesitation.

“Sing it again.” Sylus’ hold on you tightened, “I think I like your version better.” A soft chuckle left him, and quietly, he hummed once more.

—♡ Rafayel

Rafayel taps. All. The. Time. Taps his legs, hands, pens, pencils, anything and everything within reach. And he’ll deny the hell out of it when you ask him to stop. “I wasn’t doing anything,” The candies on his phone screen lit up and exploded with color as he scored another combo. Too engrossed in his phone to realize the arm slung around your shoulders was still tapping you. You leaned into him with a huff.

“You’re doing it now.”

Rafayel gave you a sidelong glance, frowning, “I dunno what you’re talking about, cutie.” You suddenly captured his hand to still it, and Rafayel gave you the most scandalized look, “If you wanna hold it that badly, I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re not even aware you’re doing it,” You blinked incredulously, “Are you?”

Rafayel threw his head back and groaned dramatically, “Doing whaaat?” Then he lifted his head to press his forehead against yours and huffed, “Is this your way of telling me to get off my phone?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like a fish up close like this.” Rafayel pulled away to roll his eyes and clicked his phone off.

“Alright, fine, you have my attention.” Then he began tapping his foot, “You know, that’s a little offensive to say to a Lemurian. You could get cancelled for that.”

Your hand drifted to his bouncing knee, and you watched as both your hand and his leg now jumped up and down. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?!”

—♡ Xavier

Xavier is always chewing on something, and it is almost always never gum. It’ll be something random, like a straw from a drink he’d long since finished. The strings of his hoodie, a toothpick. Once, it was a plastic tie. He reminded you of a teething puppy; he’d probably chew on wires if you left him alone long enough. Today, though, his chew toy of choice looked a lot like…

“Xavier, is that my pen?” 

He blinked, eyes floating from his comic book to your frown, “Yours…?” His jaw froze mid-chew. 

“Yeah,” You scooted closer on the couch, “the one from my desk at work.” 

A blush crept along his cheekbones, but he didn’t drop the pen like you expected him to, “...Are you sure?”

Your eyes fell to the pen trapped in the corner of his mouth, “The one with little stars on it? Yeah, that’s mine. I thought I lost it at work, why do you have it?”

The comic book shifted in his hands, “I found it, that’s why.” This explanation would be more convincing if he hadn’t shifted his gaze sideways. His blunt fingernails picked nervously at the corner of his book, curling the edges.

“Xavier,”

“Okay, I borrowed it.” You bit back a chuckle, and he guiltily removed the pen from his mouth. It shined with his spit, and the cap bore teeth marks, “You can have it back.”

You couldn’t hide your grimace fast enough, “...Actually, you can keep it.” Xavier merely blinked before bringing the tip back to his mouth. Then a smile curved the corner of his lips.

“My pen now, hm?”

[shybluebirdninja]

Clawsome Dad

Summary: When Logan mistakenly thinks you’re pregnant (you're not), he gets way too excited about baby names and starts building a baby-proof bunker in the backyard.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader

Note                : fluff

It all started with Logan catching you looking at a baby onesie at the store—once. You didn’t even touch the thing, just smiled at it for like, two seconds before moving on to the checkout. But that was enough for Logan. His superhuman reflexes missed nothing. You hadn’t even gotten through the door before he had this weird look on his face—half intense, half like he was about to tear through the drywall with his claws.

“Babe?” he asked, voice low, as if he were interrogating a witness. “Is there somethin’ you wanna tell me?”

You blinked at him, setting down the groceries. “Uh… no?”

Logan stepped closer, sniffing the air around you. You rolled your eyes. This man and his feral senses. “You’re sure? Nothin’... different?” he pressed, like he was waiting for you to drop some major bombshell.

“I’m sure, Logan. What’s with the third degree? Did I do something?” you asked, confused.

Then it hit you. His eyes flickered to your stomach, and you nearly choked.

Oh hell no.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you held up your hand, waving off the insanity that was clearly brewing in his head. “I am not pregnant.”

Logan frowned, not entirely convinced. “But you were lookin’ at that baby crap in the store—”

“I looked at a onesie for two seconds, Logan! It was cute, that’s all! Doesn’t mean I’m knockin’ out kids tomorrow!” you laughed, but the man didn’t seem amused.

“No baby?” he repeated, brows knitting together like he wasn’t entirely sure you knew how your own body worked.

“NO baby, Logan. Geez,” you reiterated, shaking your head, but the damage was already done.

Over the next couple of days, things got weird. He started acting real strange—asking you about baby names out of nowhere while you were brushing your teeth.

“Thoughts on ‘James Jr.’?” he muttered casually, mid-toothbrush stroke.

You spat out toothpaste, staring at him through the mirror. “James Jr.? Are you serious?”

Logan shrugged. “Seems practical. What, you don’t like it?”

“I—Logan, we are not naming a non-existent kid right now. Where’s this comin’ from?” You were barely containing your laughter. The man could take down an entire squad of bad guys without breaking a sweat, but the idea of potential parenthood had him spiraling into this dad mode that was both terrifying and hilarious.

The worst of it came when you caught him in the backyard, shirtless, sweat dripping, hammering away at something… with adamantium claws fully out. It was definitely not a normal Saturday activity, even for Logan.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, hands on your hips as you watched him drive metal sheets into the ground like a crazed man.

“Buildin’ a bunker,” he replied gruffly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“A what?”

“A baby-proof bunker. Ain’t no kid of mine growin’ up in a death trap house,” Logan muttered, slamming another panel into place. “This world’s dangerous, and that’s just the neighbors.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “You—what? Baby-proof… Logan, we don’t even have a baby.”

Logan stopped hammering for a second, looking at you like you were the one missing something here. “But we might, right? Gotta be prepared.”

You slapped your forehead, trying not to lose it. “Prepared for what? An apocalypse where the baby needs a bunker to survive? Babe, seriously, there’s no baby. You don’t need to go full Rambo on the backyard.”

“I’m always prepared,” he grumbled, but there was a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. You could tell he wasn’t ready to back down, though. Logan was never the type to half-ass anything—especially not something he deemed necessary.

By now, the neighbors had definitely noticed. Old Mrs. Jenkins from next door was peeking over the fence with a terrified expression. She whispered something about Logan being a “madman,” which wasn’t entirely untrue in this case.

You sighed, walking up to him and grabbing the hammer from his hand. “Alright, Mr. Clawhammer, we’re done here. Come inside before you scare the rest of the neighborhood.”

Logan hesitated, claws still out. “But—”

“No buts, babe. Unless you’re ready to explain to Mrs. Jenkins why you’re preparing for baby Armageddon, you’re gonna stop now,” you said firmly, dragging him toward the house. “I swear, the last thing we need is for someone to call the cops on your baby-proofing bunker. We’re not even pregnant!”

He let out a gruff noise, retracting his claws with a reluctant snikt. “You sure ‘bout that?” he asked, still looking unconvinced as you pushed him through the door.

You smacked his arm lightly. “Yes, I’m sure. But if I ever do get pregnant, I’m not raising a kid in a damn underground fortress like we’re in some post-apocalyptic wasteland, got it?”

Logan smirked, the edge of his grumpy attitude softening. “Fine, no bunker. But I ain’t changin’ my mind on James Jr.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he shot back with a cocky grin.

[lovegasmic]

 THE BEAST

⋆ wriothesley + fem!reader

( girl u in jail what did you doooo? /j it's not mentioned you probably stole a fonta idk )

⋆ mdni. heat cycles, knotting, praising, he fucks u hard rip that pussy. pet names: good girl, baby. reposting the fic I'm most proud of.

"you shouldn't be here"

"if you hate me that bad then…"

there's a chuckle resonating through the walls, metal rings around fingerless gloves clicking against the metal railing as the Duke makes his way down the stairs and next to you.

still at your side the man was a couple inches taller than yourself, bringing a slight feeling of nervousness around your body, or perhaps it was a natural response to the 'tiny' crush you had on him.

"your imprisonment is over, you're free to leave this place" Wriothesley mentions, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowing with a hint of scolding in his words to which you only shrug in return.

"i like to help Sigewinne in the infirmary" that wasn't a complete lie, but part of the reason for your continuous presence in such a place was due to the dark haired man currently standing next to you, whose presence was enough to get your knees weak and heart pumping wildly.

"mhm, I don't believe you" he mentions dully, fingers rubbing on the bridge of his nose yet his lips held a small smile on them, "I just wanted you to know I'll be out for a couple of days, a week at max"

"what?" you let out a high pitched sound, even though his erratic schedule wasn't news for anyone around, a week was far longer than any of his other absences.

"don't worry, Clorinde will drop by to check everything is in order" you stiff a huff, if anything, you weren't to admit the prison was the least of your worries.

"take care" was the only thing you managed to say. his hand felt heavy on your shoulder once he replied with a soft "you too"

a day passed and you already felt as if your 'not' lover left for war. the fortress remained the same as well as your usual activities at the infirmary, but the emptiness Wriothesley left alongside the usual meetings for tea and having lunch at the cafeteria started to burden.

but, on the other hand, a sense of pride bloomed in your chest since many of the guards went to find you and ask for advice regarding the fortress, quoting to their own sentences, you were the one his grace trusted the most.

"I am very sorry to bother you miss" one of the man said, "but since the Duke is out and miss Clorinde is still left to come back we decided it will be the best if you knew beforehand" strange rumors started to raise ever since Wriothesley left, some kind of 'beast' was heard from one of the pipes, and even though many guards already searched for clues, nothing was found.

"it's fine" you sighed, "please warn everyone to stay away from that place, at least until this issue gets fixed.

"it will be alright" Sigewinne smiles your way, trying to get your nerves on check while bandaging a man's scratched forearm, a match just took place due to the sudden influx of injured men, luckily no one was in mortal danger, but it was enough to keep you busy until your work hour was over.

but you should have expected that what the guard mentioned earlier was to keep you awake all night, to drag you out of bed and sneak past whoever was on patrol duty that night.

the mentioned zone was clear, no guards or prisoners looking for a challenge with an unknown danger, but especially, no sound besides the occasional water drop hitting a puddle on the floor.

another thing was the cool and smooth metal panels covering the walls, where your fingers slid trying to find any clue, knuckles hitting the material and ear pressed to find any possible hollow area.

and for what it felt like an eternity later, you heard a soft growl from behind the wall, right where your ear was pressed against.

you gasped by consequence, failing to stiff the sound so whatever was on the other side didn't hear you.

apparently, it did, since the growling stopped completely at the same time your back turned to flee and warn anyone nearby, as soon as your foot took a step, a hand covered your mouth and dragged you into some kind of dim lighted room before the door closed right in front of you, it was rough and calloused, and you could've had recognized it in the spot if it weren't because of the fear surrounding your whole body and freezing you in place.

"calm down" a voice rasps in your ear, an incredible mix of emotions running through your body in just a couple of seconds, starting with confusion since you were certain that was Wriothesley 's voice, passing to worry as to why is he in such place and lastly, flustering at the feeling of something poking on your lower back, his arms and chest warm and bare against your body.

"Wriothesley…" you pant once his hand leaves your mouth, "what is going on?"

he exhales heavily, letting you free from his embrace way too quickly for your liking, but allowing your eyes to take in his scar covered chest, drops of sweat dripping down his forehead and dampening the dark fabric of his half buttoned pants, and oh… he was hard. painfully you might add with how his trousers seemed to be about to burst.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner" he starts and you think it should be you apologizing for thinking lewdly of him, "but you have to go"

"what?"

"it's not safe for you to be here" the man grits his teeth, backing up until the back of his knees touch a bed you failed to notice before, sitting on it with no care while his hands are in fists, tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

the threatening growl from man makes you flinch slightly, yet that doesn't stop you from taking a step closer, bared teeth with a single fang peeking from his bottom lip that buries in the lower until a single bead of blood pops up.

"tell me what's going on" you whisper in a slightly demanding tone, your relationship was close enough to mess and joke around, but watching him in this situation, and that he was so hesitant to speak broke your heart.

"i—" he swallows hard when you're close enough to smell your scent, a brief and almost imperceptible hint of arousal clouding his brain and stealing a hiss against his will.

unaware of the situation, thinking Wriothesley is in serious pain, you decide to rest a hand at the top of his shoulder, a friendly motion he often did with you but now, he just wanted to pull you by that hand and kiss you until you ran out of breath.

"I..." he starts again, gently holding your wrist and bringing it up to his mouth, smiling when you shiver visibly, "I go through heats, once every a couple of months"

"oh"

he chuckles, warm and genuine, raising his head to observe your expression, leaving you with shaky knees, his bright blue eyes a tone darker, hair damp and messy, inviting you to thread your fingers on it and kiss him stupid.

"that's why you're not safe here" the Duke whispers, still with his lips against your growing pulse, "I've been dying to rip your clothes off ever since I saw you, now it feels like I'd definitely die if I don't touch you in the next five minutes"

you gasp, surprised and turned on before replying, "make it one" and in the blink of an eye you're kissing him, hard and desperate while your body melts against his, pliantly letting him drag you down and sit you in his strong thigh where you're quick to grinding against, sloppily like the kisses you share.

"fuck" he growls and you moan, allowing his tongue to slip past your mouth while his thumbs press tight on your jaw, opening for a better reach while you can only take it and claw onto his nape.

his knee bucks up in a steady rhythm, one of his hands sneaking below your skirt, all the way up from your bare thighs to your soaked panties, "you're wet, I can smell it"

a pained moan escapes your lips, face burning in embarrassment but the look on his face is rewarding enough, pupils blown out, lips red and puffy letting out breathy exhalations. you barely get enough time to observe him before your eyes shut unconsciously at the feeling of a pair of rough fingers coming in contact with your clit through the flimsy underwear fabric.

"can I… please��?"

"yeah" you gasp, earning a whine from the man right onto your neck where he's nibbling, quickly getting rid of your skirt and half ripping your panties in the process, his pants get undone next, enough to fit his cock between your dripping folds flicking your clit with the engorged cockhead before pressing into your tight cunt.

he's big, bigger than you had imagined during sleepless nights of you touching yourself, but you're incredibly wet and doing your absolute best in taking a fat cock.

"oh fuck…!" you mewl, pressing your chin to the side of his head while Wriothesley continues to bite on your shoulder, careful not to pierce the skin as his hands find place on your hips, busy pushing your body down to take him whole.

"take it" he exhales, "I know you can take it, baby" and you whimper at the praise, thighs shaking from the stretch. his breath is hot against your collarbone, hips rolling forward that causes his cock to rub against the firm spot inside your cunt that leaves you limp, tugging your shirt from above your head so his hands freely get to palm at your tits once he's fully bottomed out, giving you a moment to adjust while he plays with your nipples.

"there we go" Wriothesley pants, hips snapping forward to fuck you deep, clutching onto the back of your head next to press his mouth against yours, bouncing your body up and down his cock in increasing speed.

"shit, shit!" Wriothesley groans, hips stuttering before stopping almost completely in what felt an attempt of self control, his tip coating your insides with immense amounts of precum, making you wonder just how much cum he actually held in those heavy balls that smacked against your ass in loud papping sounds.

"Wrio, you don't have to hold back" you whine through bitten lips, cupping his cheeks between your hands. and the moment where Wriothesley snaps will get forever burnt in your brain, starting from the deep rumbling groan, the twitch of his cock messily ruining your inside with hard precise thrusts, to the sudden movement of your whole body where he pins you down in bed, face down against the pillow with his hand pushing between your shoulder blades, ass up, face down while he successfully mounts you from behind.

his fat cock glides easily past your tight entrance, soaked in slick at the same time his thumb finds a place between your teeth, rubbing on your tongue the tangy taste of your slick.

"stay still" he grunts, dropping his forehead down between your shoulder blades while feeding your pussy the rest of his cock, "you smell so fucking good" Wriothesley is a mess of grunts and hisses, spreading out your ass cheeks to fit in properly inside your tight cunt, loving how the squelching sound comes louder in this position.

"too deep!" you scream, thighs shaking from the forcefully stretch of your walls around his cock.

"it's okay" he slurs, fingers pressing on your forehead to push you head up and kiss your temple, yet his hips continue to piston inside of you, dragging in your body with his on top of the mattress, his knees on each side of your thighs to perfectly fuck into you, driving his tip almost at your cervix with each thrust, "I got you, you're fine"

"Wrio" you sob, "feels so good"

"I know, baby, in know" he chokes out, eyes closed shut while pants escape freely between skin slapping, "you take it so good, my good girl, all mine"

"o-oh!" you whine, "Wrio please, you're so big, oh my god"

"don't say that" he grits, hips stuttering and pushing onto your waist so he gets to reach in much deeper than before, "I'm going to come soon"

"ngh" you moan, toes curling and pussy clenching.

"can I knot you?"

"yes" you reply way too quickly, digging your nails onto the sheets, pillow drenched from sweat and tears, "yes, please"

Wriothesley moans like a wounded animal, fucking you like one too with his hands on your head, pushing you down as if to submit you to him.

you can feel him twitching again, cunt fluttering in sync, clenching and begging to be filled with a scream of your own while you cum all over his cock, gasping loudly when his knot begins to push past your tight entrance.

"W-Wrio—" you sob.

"yes, I'm here, it's alright you can take it" he thumbs your clit, helping you ride out your high while his knot gets snuggled inside your cunt, digging his nails on the skin of your thighs while rutting into you, long and thick spurts of cum coating your walls.

"fuckin' perfect pussy, taking all of my cum" he groans, panting loudly and jerking his hips until every single drop of cum is stuffing your hole.

"are you alright?" he asks once you've calmed down, turning your body around to let you cuddle against his broad chest.

"yeah" you sniffle, overwhelmed.

"I forgot to ask how did you find me" the man grins, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head.

"people heard you growling like a beast" you sniffle again.

"... what?"

and you should have told him earlier, since you were certain now people might think that said beast was just some horny dog.

[incognit0slut]

Doctor Reid

PART 2 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Established Relationship Your boyfriend finally agrees to indulge in your fantasy by playing a very different kind of doctor, but on his own terms.

Content: (18+) 4k, roleplay, lingerie, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, female oral, edging, soft!dom as per usual and him being what you guys like to call ‘a little shit’ a/n: season 12 Spencer can stay between my thighs all day every day. also, i have no knowledge on any medical terms this is just ✨vibes✨

10:34 AM

The box was heavier than you’d expected. It had been weeks since you’d ordered it—weeks of wondering if this would even get here without some awkward explanation. You’d agonized over every little detail, scrolling through pages of different costumes, wondering which stethoscope looked the most real.

And now it was finally here.

You didn’t waste a second. Your fingers worked quickly, ripping through the tape and cardboard until the contents spilled out. A crisp, folded white coat with perfectly pressed lapels and a stethoscope. And it was a real one, with cool metal tubing that felt heavy and authentic in your hand. Everything looked even better than you’d imagined.

You barely took the time to fold back the box flaps before hurrying to the next room, where your boyfriend sat comfortably on the couch, idly thumbing through a book.

“Spencer!” Your voice practically sang in excitement. “It’s here!”

He glanced up and lowered his book. "What's here?"

You grinned, bouncing on your toes as you closed the distance between you. "The doctor is officially in," you declared, holding up the white coat like a trophy, the stethoscope dangling from your other hand.

You watched as realization dawned across his face as he blinked a few times, processing the items in your hands, before letting out a soft, amused huff.

"Wow," he said slowly. "You really went all out."

"Of course I did,” you affirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you held the coat up to his chest, sizing him up as though he were already playing the part. “And it’s perfect.”

He leaned back into the couch, trying to put some distance between him and your infectious enthusiasm. “You know I’m not much of an actor.”

“Baby,” you drawled out, emphasizing the pet name with that affectionate tone you knew worked like a charm on him. It was the same sweet voice you used when you wanted something, the kind that could coax just about anything from him. “You’re not trying to win the Oscars, it’s sex. I promise you’ll like it.”

He shook his head like he was the most put-upon boyfriend in the world, letting out a mock sigh of exasperation, though the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips betrayed him. He closed his book and set it aside.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said at last, dragging the word out as though it physically pained him to say it. “If we do this on my own terms.”

“Your own terms? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. And,” he reached out, pinching the collar of the coat between his fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”

You pouted. “What, you don’t want to look like a real doctor?”

“I think I can pull it off without the costume.” He flashed you a smile. “I’m technically still a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Your multiple doctorates don’t exactly qualify you for this, Doctor Reid.”

“I thought having six degrees would be enough for anything.”

“Too bad none of them is needed now,” you shot back, poking a finger at his chest playfully. “The role I’m thinking of requires a different kind of expertise. More…” You paused, pretending to mull it over, “Hands-on. Less theoretical.”

The laugh he let out was short and incredulous, his eyebrows raising as if he couldn’t believe your persistence. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

You sighed dramatically. “Babyyyy.”

“You know, one of these days that tone isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, please, you love it,” you taunted, leaning in closer. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about this.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons, debating just how far he’d let you push him. And then there it was, that spark in his eyes. Faint but undeniable—the one that told you he was already half convinced, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alright, fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll play along.”

The grin you wore was at least a mile wide as you shoved the stethoscope into his hand.

1:52 PM

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Spencer looked up from his stack of papers, and as soon as he saw you standing there, dressed in nothing but lacy lingerie that clung to every curve, his mouth fell open. He blinked, trying to process the sight. Because yes, while you looked incredibly sexy, he was still baffled.

“Since when does a patient wear... that?"

You stepped closer, letting his eyes follow your every move as you shrugged with a hint of feigned innocence in your smile. "Well, I thought I'd save you some time, you know? Make it easier for your examination."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his desk. "I'm not so sure this is standard procedure. I think you might be bending the rules here."

"Maybe. But I'm sure Doctor Reid can make a special exception, right?“

You shifted slightly, arching your back just enough to draw his attention. His eyes dropped to your chest, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the sheer, barely-there fabric of your lingerie. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but it broke through anyway. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Of course,” he finally replied. “I think I can be persuaded.”

With that, he leaned forward, sweeping his documents to the side in one smooth motion, before patting the now-cleared space on the desk in front of him.

“Take a seat, Miss,” he said, his voice turning low and authoritative that lit a spark of excitement inside you. “Let’s get started.”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting back a grin as the cool wood of the desk pressed against the backs of your thighs. You watched Spencer stand up and slip between your legs, his hands finding your knees and spreading them just enough to close the distance until the heat of his body was flushed against yours.

“So, tell me,” he started, his voice lowering as he fell into the role. “What seems to be the problem today?”

A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach, and suddenly you were very aware of what was happening. You’d initiated this—had begged for it, even—but it was something entirely different now that Spencer was towering over you. The confidence you’d felt earlier wavered for just a moment as his palms ran slowly up your thighs.

“I, uh,” your voice faltering slightly as his hands continued their slow journey. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”

His fingers brushed lightly against the frills of your lingerie, teasing the lace between his fingers as he maintained eye contact. “Any symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traced small circles over the fabric. “All of the above.”

“I see.” His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

Slowly, you parted your lips, and the moment you did, Spencer’s hand came up to your chin. He tilted your head back gently, exposing the graceful line of your throat.

“I’m going to run a few tests now.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “It might feel intense, but I need you to stay relaxed and follow my instructions. Can you do that, Miss?”

You nodded as best as you could, mouth still open, and he gave you a small, approving smile.

“Stick your tongue out for me, just a little bit.”

You followed his instructions, extending your tongue just far enough to meet his touch. His eyes gleamed with focus as he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressing it lightly against your tongue.

“Hm,” he hummed, his eyes still fixed on your mouth like he was about to make a serious diagnosis. “I think I might be starting to see the problem here. But I need to check one more thing. Can you close your mouth around my finger?”

You complied, your lips wrapping around his thumb, feeling the rough pad of it pressing down on your tongue.

“Good,” he sighed, the approval in his voice like a reward in itself. “Now try giving it a gentle suck.”

You could feel the tension rising in you. Your cheeks hollowed as you did what he asked, and you couldn’t help but think back to the hesitation in his voice earlier, the way he’d claimed he wasn’t sure about this, that he wasn’t good at playing roles. You would’ve laughed if your mouth wasn’t occupied.

But you were an obedient patient, after all. You started sucking lightly, feeling the weight of his thumb resting against your tongue. There was something undeniably arousing about how he watched you, eyes heavy with focus, and that steady weight of his finger as he pretended to assess your reaction.

The first rush of arousal made itself known between your legs. You gradually increased the pressure, and before you knew it, you were bobbing your head. But just as you fell into a steady rhythm, his hand tightened on your chin to stop you.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured after a moment, pulling his thumb away slightly to speak. “You’re suffering from an acute sensitivity.”

You swallowed, eyes wide as you played along, trying to keep your composure despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Is… is that serious?”

“I’ll need to do a further examination to understand the extent of your condition,” he mused, his eyes flickering between your face and your body as if assessing you before he straightened up slightly. “Let’s check your vitals now.”

He reached behind you, fingers brushing your lower back as he grabbed the stethoscope that had been sitting on the desk all day, the one you’d practically begged him to use. His expression turned serious, as though he were truly diagnosing you, and he leaned in close, pressing the flat side of the stethoscope against the pulse point on your neck.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed softly. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest as the cool metal made contact with your skin. “Your heart rate is definitely elevated.”

He moved the stethoscope lower, brushing it along your collarbone, before pressing it just above your heart. You felt the thump, thump, thump of your pulse echo through the metal.

“Definitely fast,” he noted. “We might need to find out what’s causing such a reaction.”

And before you could respond, without warning, he moved the stethoscope lower, pressing the cold metal against your nipple. You let out a soft, involuntary moan as the sensation caught you off guard.

“Ah,” he muttered, tilting his head as if he were genuinely analyzing your response, his thumb grazing the lace-covered peak around the stethoscope. “I think we’ve found one of the pressure points.”

You watched as his fingers trailed up to the edge of your lingerie, dragging his knuckles along the lace before he tugged the fabric down, letting your breast spill free. Without a word, he pressed the stethoscope directly against your bare nipple. The sudden contact made you jolt, your back arching as a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, and your nipple hardened instantly under the cold metal.

“Heightened sensitivity to stimuli.” He moved the stethoscope in small circles. “Very, very responsive.”

His eyes flickered down as he used his free hand to tug down the other side of your lingerie, exposing your other breast. You tried to keep your cool, tried to pretend like his touch wasn’t turning you inside out, but it was getting harder by the second. And God, he knew it. The way he played with your other nipple, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like he had all the time in the world, was enough to make your thoughts scatter.

You tried so hard to keep your composure, but then he gently pinched and tugged on your sensitive nub, and a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. With a satisfied grin, he pulled away.

You blinked, momentarily dazed. “What—?” you breathed out. “Why did you stop?”

“Medical procedure,” he said simply, his tone so casual it almost made you forget the heat of his touch moments earlier. “It’s important to give the patient time to stabilize.”

You shot him a bewildered, almost exasperated look that said are you serious right now? But he just smiled that slow, self-assured smile of his. He was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“We’re doing this my way, remember?”

You huffed in mock annoyance. “Really? That’s how we’re playing this?”

He brushed his lips on your shoulder. “That’s how we’re playing."

5:22 PM

“Doctor Reid?”

Spencer glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, casually stirring a hefty amount of sugar, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “Hmm?”

The coolness of the counter pressed against your back as you watched him. “I think it’s getting worse.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just let his gaze rake over you, taking note of the way the thin fabric of your lingerie clung to your skin.

“Worse, how?” he finally asked, setting his mug down.

“It’s… spreading.”

“Spreading?” He mused. “Where, exactly?”

“Everywhere.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your lingerie, lifting it just enough to show a glimpse of bare skin beneath. “I really need your help, Doctor.”

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin you revealed. You watched as the realization flashed across his face. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a satisfied smirk, and you knew then that he’d taken the bait—he had to confirm just how bare you really were.

“Come here,” he ordered softly. He stepped back from the counter just enough to make space. “If it’s spreading, I have to conduct a full-body assessment.”

You slowly made your way to him with shaky legs.

“Up,” he instructed, giving the counter a gentle pat before letting his hands settle on your hips. “Sit.”

The cool marble touched the backs of your thighs as you hoisted yourself up. Then, without warning, Spencer’s hands were on your legs. He grabbed your calves, and before you could even catch your breath, he maneuvered your knees apart, placing the palms of your feet flat onto the countertop.

His eyes dropped between your legs, and the sight of you completely bare, your pussy lips glistening under the dim light, confirmed what he’d suspected. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he took in every detail, the way you were flushed, open, and dripping.

“Is there a reason,” he began slowly, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft, detached tone. “Why you’re not wearing anything underneath?”

“I… I thought it might make the examination easier.”

He smiled. “How considerate.”

Then with painstaking slowness, Spencer used both thumbs to part your folds, spreading you open completely to his gaze. It was almost clinical, the way he did it, as if he were studying you like some fascinating experiment. And it was working. You could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing in your veins. God, he had you spread open like this in your kitchen counter, and all you could think was how absolutely shameless this was.

He took his time, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? Spencer Reid didn’t rush experiments. No, he would spend all the time in the world analyzing, learning, committing every detail to memory. And right now, that focus was on you. He dragged his fingertips through your arousal, spreading it leisurely over your folds like he was testing its consistency, as if that slick heat was something he could measure and quantify.

And all you could do was hold your breath.

“I have to say,” he started again, his voice low and taunting as his fingers slid back and forth slowly, grazing just over your entrance without actually dipping inside. “You’re overly lubricated. Are you always like this?”

You exhaled a long breath, trying to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart. “Y-Yes.”

Spencer's smile deepened, his gaze never leaving your face as he pressed just a bit harder, testing your reaction. “Interesting. Do you get this wet from just a little touch, or does it have to be… more?”

“J-Just a little,” you admitted, hips instinctively shifting toward his fingers.

“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, and finally—finally—he let his finger slide just inside your entrance, only to stop right there, buried to the first knuckle. He didn’t move any further. “Is that all it takes? Or do you need more to truly feel the effects?”

“I...” You let out a whimper when his finger twitched inside you. "M-More."

“And how much more, exactly? One finger? Two?”

“Two,” you gasped, every coherent thought slipping away under his touch. “Two… Doctor.”

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and without another word, he obliged, slipping a second finger inside you. The stretch made you bite back a moan as you felt every inch of him dragging against your inner walls. You couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers, pulling him deeper as your slick arousal coated every thrust.

“You’re even more responsive than I thought,” he noted, adjusting his angle to brush against that sensitive spot inside you. “Your partner must enjoy this… a lot.”

He was playing his role all too well. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as his speed picked up. "He... He does," you breathed out. "He—he loves it."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Good," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "Because this is a very special condition that requires a great deal of attention. And I'm sure that you need all the attention you can get, don't you?"

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding frantically as the pleasure built in steady waves. “I… I need it.”

"I thought so. Patients with your symptoms typically respond very well to intensive treatment."

With that, his fingers began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. The sensation of his long fingers stretching you had you moaning as you felt every drag, every inch while he continued to work you open. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he pressed a thumb firmly against your clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

He circled your swollen nub in slow, delicious patterns, and your body clenched around his fingers. This was it. You could feel it. The way your pulse pounded in your ears, the heat pooling deep in your core, every sensation building higher and higher. You could feel that sweet, sweet edge approaching, so close you could practically taste it—

And then he stopped.

Everything. Stopped.

“Spencer!”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to soothe the ache in your body. He simply slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself. The mix of your own slick and the heat of his skin made you moan softly, your tongue swirling around his fingers

“You see, you can be very responsive,” he commented in a low, measured tone. “But I think we should take a break, rushing the treatment would only compromise the results.”

He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like he wasn’t purposefully doing this to drive you insane. You wanted to laugh, and you did. But it was a defeated, breathless sort of laugh around his fingers, because you knew the man settled between your thighs still held all the power over you.

08:56 PM

“Babe?”

He laughed softly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. “No more Doctor?”

You ignored the amusement in his voice as you walked up to the bed where he lay sprawled out, so casually composed, flipping another page like he hadn’t spent the entire day driving you mad. You reached the edge of the mattress, shadow casting over him, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

“I wanna cum.”

Spencer’s smile widened, the kind that made your stomach flip with both excitement and irritation, and he placed the book down beside him. His hand reached out lazily to brush your thigh.

“Yeah?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. “Does my sweet girl want to be taken care of?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Well, I do like it when you ask nicely,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “And you’ve been very patient all day.”

“I have.”

“I think you deserve it.”

“I do.”

He let out an amused laugh. “Alright, lay down on the bed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You quickly shifted, lying back against the pillows. Spencer’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your thighs and dragging you toward the edge of the mattress. The room spun for a moment when he settled onto his knees. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing your calf as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded, and just as the breath left your lungs, his fingers brushed against the slick, wet folds of your pussy. He traced the outline of your lips gently, gathering the moisture that had been building all day.

“Poor baby,” he cooed sympathetically, his breath ghosting over your wetness. And just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of teasing, he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clit.

A desperate whine escaped your lips. “Please…”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. He licked another long, languid strip to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before flattening it again, dragging slowly just to savor the way you trembled beneath him. One of his hands gripped your thigh firmly, keeping your leg steady over his shoulder, while the other slid underneath, lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

And when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck, a choked moan tore from your throat.

“Spencer,” you whimpered. “Oh god…”

The vibration of his low groan reverberated through you. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open and pinned beneath him. You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit or the wet, obscene sounds of him slurping against your soaked folds. Either way, it was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where everything blurred and all you could do was feel.

And then his tongue shifted, dipping lower to probe your entrance. He pushed inside, exploring, seeking, like he was determined to reach every possible inch of you. And damn it, it felt like he could. Each thrust and twist of his tongue sent a surge of delicious heat through your body, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders, squeezing him tighter.

You could barely breathe as the tension coiled tighter, so fucking tight you thought you might snap. And he knew it—he could feel it, the way your walls clenched around his tongue, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders. And still, he didn’t let up, thrusting his tongue into you deeper, faster, while his nose rubbed insistently against your clit.

He kept going, over and over, tasting you like you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. It was too much and yet not enough, and soon you couldn’t stop the desperate chant of his name spilling from your lips. You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for anymore—more? mercy?—all you knew was that you on the brink of falling apart.

One last stroke was enough to shatter you completely.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came, but with the way he was working you over, you didn’t stand a chance. The moment you felt yourself tip over, everything broke—your body tensed, your back arched sharply off the bed, and a loud moan tore from your lips. It was like your body had a mind of its own, hips grinding desperately against his mouth as if seeking every last bit of friction you could steal.

And when you finally came down, you were a breathless, panting mess. Spencer gave your clit one final, teasing suck, before he pulled back. He crawled up your body, hands sliding up your sides to push your lingerie higher. Gentle, warm kisses tickled your stomach as he threw you a smug look that only he could pull off.

“How was that,” he murmured, pausing to kiss just beneath your ribs. “For your little fantasy?”

Mind-blowing. Intense. Better than I imagined.

“Well,” you managed to say, fingers tangling into his hair. “If that’s how you plan on treating me, Doctor, I might just have to get sick more often.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin, and he nipped gently at your side.

“I think it’s best for you to do a regular check-up, then,” he teased, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he crawled further up, settling his body over yours. “Doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that escaped your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’d be more than happy to comply.

[ink-n-shadow]

*keysmash* ABO pack!141 is chef's kiss amazing! I especially love how you made Johnny the Omega. Maybe reader is the good girl Omega to counteract Johnny's brattiness? (I would love you forever if you wrote that pretty pretty please)

don't mind me, just leaving another slightly self-indulgent a/b/o smut

BAD DOG

𝜗𝜚 the one where omega!johnny's been bad

𝜗𝜚 pairing: pack!141 x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), brat!johnny, punishments, fingering (reader!receiving), oral (reader!receiving), johnny referred to as a dog, leash/collar use, you're being rewarded

johnny (just like reader) has his good days and bad days. some days he’s the sweetest and most patient boy, like sometimes simon doesn’t even have to breathe a word for johnny to do what he’s told—simon just gives him a slight quirk of the brow, and johnny’s scrambling to be at his side. these are the days johnny’s rewarded handsomely, bundled up against simon’s side or nuzzled in price’s lap and practically melting at the feeling of blunt nails scratching at his scalp and the gruff sounds of praise dripping from one of his alphas lips. sometimes when he’s been this good, he gets to either fill you up without consequence or play with you to his heart’s content.

but these good days (at least for johnny) are usually few and far between because lets face it: johnny’s a masochistic brat, especially when he’s in heat. he acts like a feral mutt whenever the muzzle comes out, but the second it’s as secured around his mouth as the cage around his cock is, he’s sitting pretty and trying not to drool at the way his sensitive tip presses against the metal with each throb of his cock. he secretly loves how quickly his brain shuts off, eyes growing heavy and tongue lapping at his chapped lips with every heavy pant of breath.

the only punishment johnny doesn’t like is when he’s slotted between simon’s thigh, tethered to the alpha’s large hand with a chain leash and collar and forced to face forward towards one of the beds in your shared bedrooms. price has you splayed out with your back against his chest, your thighs wrenched apart by his own and his hand stuffing three fingers inside of your slick hole. there’s a creamy froth surrounding where your arousal ended and price’s fingers began, the only evidence of johnny’s misdeed. with each twist and roll of price’s fingers deeper and deeper inside of you, a silky mixture of your slick and johnny’s cum drips from between your thighs, and if it wasn’t for kyle’s tongue lapping earnestly at both your slick skin and price’s drenched fingers, the sheets beneath you would be more ruined than they currently are.

johnny hates having to sit there and watch, held in place by the leash and simon’s heated gaze on the back of his neck. he can’t help himself sometimes and tries to inch himself closer to the footboard, only for simon to pull harder on the leash and send him fumbling backwards into the alpha’s lap.

“the fuck you think you’re doin’, mutt? been a bad dog today, ‘member? bad dogs don’t get treats, so sit,” and the gravel to simon’s words have johnny sitting up straighter, keeping his sniveling to a minimum as he watches you fall apart around price’s fingers and against kyle’s tongue.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[mommynott]

Stroke of Midnight

12 Days of Dickmas - Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theo and Mattheo help you get over your fear of heights in very fun ways 👀🎁

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, modern au, dom!theo, dom!mattheo, threesome, new years hook up, DP, spitroast, rough sex, anal, creampies, PIV, semi public sex, pussy eating, throat fucking, choking, spitting, nipple play, degrading, dirty talk, dom&sub, mattheodore ruining us👀

All morning the two guys who you had come to know as Theo and Mattheo, constantly flirted with you in the small ski lodge cafe where you worked. You found it cute. Endearing. The way they practically fought over on who could out flirt you.

Not expecting to see them again, especially so close to the cafe closing time. It was New Year’s Eve and not like you had plans or anything but you wanted to be home in your bed. That’s when two sets of snowy legs wandered in.

You were met with the two attractive males from earlier and laughed as you shook your head. “Can I help you two?” You asked them in a teasing tone. They both glanced at each other with smirks before facing your gaze.

“Well, you’re closing up right?” Mattheo asked lowly, stalking toward you as he ran a hand through his fluffy curls, Theodore’s smirk only growing wider. “Yeah- why?” Confusion plastered over you.

But Theodore and Mattheo had other plans in mind. “Come to the peak with us…” Theo’s accent rolled off his tongue, making you shudder while he took a step toward you. “Oh…I uh…I can’t-“

How do I even explain this without looking like a total wimp? Fuck. “Why not?” Matt cocked an eyebrow to you, the both of them crossing their toned arms over their chests. “Well….”

You began, the lights slowly shutting off in the cafe as you sighed. Your gaze flickered back and forth between the two men. “I’m terrified of heights- okay? Ski lifts and whatever are not my thing.”

Explaining yourself, Theodore gave you a sympathetic look but Mattheo continued to smirk, clicking his tongue against his cheek. “Come on pretty girl…You have us…” the curly-haired one started and your heart raced.

“Yeah…We’ll take real good care of you, Tesoro…” The Italian said lowly and you swore your heart would be bursting from your chest. Your face flushing up from the two attractive guys. How could I say no?

“I….I don’t know…I guess?” Almost questioning if this was even the right decision, the boys smiled from ear to ear as they started to walk out and you followed. “Don’t worry, Bella— we can take the gondola…It’s enclosed so you’ll feel safer”

Theodore seemed sweet, kind, and thoughtful. Your already cherried face turned even more red as you grabbed your coat and headed into the snowy night with them.

Next in line for the gondola were the three of you. Half an hour until midnight. You shivered a bit and felt the anxiety rise. “Ah— come on now doll, nothing to be nervous about. You have us!” Matt exclaimed, causing Theo to chuckle.

“Mattheo can be an idiot— regardless we’ll be with you. Seems like we’ll be ringing in the new year together-“

New years. With strangers. Hot strangers. Not too bad. You just nodded your head. The coldness getting to you but Theodore threw an arm around you, pulling you close. “Cold, Cara Mia?”

Nodding your head, your nose felt numb, reddened from the brisk air. “Just a little…” The cloud of your breath in the air had you shudder but then the bars opened and all three of you waltzed into the gondola.

At first, you sat across from the two of them. Anxiously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers as you glanced from each window. “Relax…Breath…It’ll be okay” Mattheo reassured with a chuckle.

“Are you sure?” You questioned the both of them softly as Theo hit you with yet another sympathetic gaze before quickly plopping next to you. Giving Mattheo a challenging grin. Throwing his arm around you. “Very sure—“

The Italians strong arm wrapped around you helped the nerves you felt as the gondola started to rise. The metal whirred as you ascended up the mountain. However, you stayed quiet.

Ten minutes or so had passed of silence and Theo and Mattheo messing with each other. But you were in your own head. Suddenly you heard a loud screech, the gondola coming to a halt.

“W-what’s happening?!”

Practically shouting your words, panic started to form inside of you. Your vision getting blurry and Mattheo instantly stood up to come sit on the other side of you. “I’m not sure…” He mumbled to himself as Theo tried to look down below.

That’s when an alarm went off on the speakers before a voice spoke through. “Due to maintenance, we have come to a quick stop! Don’t worry we will be back up and running shortly. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

Fuck. Me. Just my luck huh? You must’ve looked pretty shaken up because now Matt’s arm was also around you and it was taking everything in you to not break down in tears.

“Hey- hey- hey! It’ll be okay— hey! Look at me!” Theodore grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Those inviting ocean eyes. “S-sorry…I’m just….Scared” You admitted quietly, feeling Mattheo’s fingers dance through your lush locks soothingly.

“I know…But it’ll be alright…We just need a distraction!” Mattheo chuckled but your eyes remained glued to Theo’s. You noticed him glance at your lips and your heart flipped.

He seemed to inch closer and closer, your breath getting hitched in your throat. “You’re right, riddle…And I think I know just the thing-“ Before you could even process everything, Theo slammed his lips to yours.

You didn’t even try to fight it, he tasted fucking amazing and he was right- this was a distraction. Hearing Mattheo scoff, he gripped your hair tightly, his free hand going to your thigh.

The kiss between you and Theo only deepened, Mattheo grazing his lips across the side of your neck ever so softly, causing a soft moan to whimper from you. But you didn’t stop it. Not in the least.

“If I wasn’t mistaken…”

Mattheo’s voice was low and raspy against your flesh as he teasingly bit along it, surely leaving little love marks as he went on.

“…You’re fucking loving this…You wanna take us both, Angel?”

He muttered against your collarbone, Theo groaning into the kiss as your hand went down to his pants. Feeling the throbbing boner in between his snow pants.

Mattheo growled, opening up your jacket and kneeling between your legs. Slowly working your own pants and panties off. “Fuckin hell Nott- She has one pretty fucking pussy…”

The vulgarity of his words caused you to whimper between the steamy make out of you and Theodore. The Italian chuckled at Matt’s response as one hand went to your shirt, tugging it down along with your bra to scoop up a breast of yours.

All of the sensations surely were making you forget about your fear of heights. Lost in the bliss of both of the men. Suddenly, a gasp emitted from your throat as Mattheo buried himself between your thighs.

“Feels good does it, Tesoro?”

Theodore asked, purring teasingly against your swollen lips, your foreheads now touching as your submissive gaze flickered between his own. “—Mhhhhmmm…” You managed to mumble out while Mattheo’s tongue worked in indescribable circles along your clit.

With a swift movement, Theo stole a quick peck from you before standing up and wiggling down his pants. Grabbing a fistful of your silky locks. “Good girl- now choke on my cock—“

With a growl, you barely parted your lips as he shoved his massive length down your throat. Slamming his hips against your face while he throat fucked you— Mattheo’s tongue flicking and licking as fast as he could.

Tears pricked your eyes as you fought to keep your glossed-over gaze up on the Italian- a smirk painting over his chiseled face. “You’re close aren’t you?”

You knew your muffled moans vibrating along his dick was probably giving it away and you nodded your head through his plunges in your mouth. “No— Riddle stop,” Theo demanded and Matt shot up, your juices dripping off of his chin.

“The first time I want her to cum…”

Theo shifted over next to Mattheo as he stood up and wiped his mouth. Smirking to each other, Matt moved over to where Theo stood before.

“…I want it to soak my cock—“ Theodore growled, his ocean eyes darkening into a sea of black. With a swift movement, he positioned himself between your legs, teasing his sensitive tip along your leaky slit.

“Y-yes…Fuck—“ Stuttering to yourself, your eyes dashed between the two men, feeling the gondola swing ever so slightly as they shifted over to new positions. “Beg for it-“

Theodore’s domineering tone sent a shiver down your spine- “Please-“ However before you could finish any begging, Matt shoved his cock between your lips, thrusting slowly.

“Keep going—“ The Italian said through gritted teeth, still teasing his throbbing length across your pussy. “P-please…God…Please fuck me- Please!” You spoke over Mattheo’s cock.

Theo hung his head back and let out an animalistic growl before slamming deep inside of your needy cunt. “Cazzo— So fuckin’ wet for us, huh?” He taunted you, Mattheo shooting him a shit-eating grin.

“She loves being spit roasted—“ Mattheo mumbled out deeply, fucking your throat even harder. But you? You were a fucking blissful mess between the two of them. Feeling your eyes already start to roll in the back of your head.

You could feel your orgasm approaching quickly, and your body starting to tremble with euphoric pleasure. “I think she’s getting close, Nott—“ Matt said through a low groan, turned on by the simple sexual aura of you.

“Is that so, Cara mia?”

The question had your submissive stare dancing over to Theo’s. Giving him a subtle head nod through Mattheo’s plows down your throat. Surely you’d have no voice tomorrow.

Theodore slammed his cock faster inside of you, snaking down his hand to apply pressure with his thumb around your clit. Swirling it around in tiny little circles. “Release for me—“

His demand along with all of the other sensations your body was experiencing, Sent you into an earth-shattering orgasm. Your wetness flowed freely down his throbbing length.

“Good fuckin’ girl— Cazzo-“

Theodore slowed down his thrusts, letting the afterglow wash over you while Mattheo pulled out of your mouth. The drool dripping from between your lips. “Fuck— I need to fuck her- feel her…”

Matt sounded hungry, something rumbling within him. However, you noticed the way Theo’s lips curled In a sinister manner. “How do you feel ‘bout anal, pretty girl?” He asked you, Mattheo letting a low chuckle rasp from his throat.

With widened eyes, you could feel your heart thump loudly against your chest. “I-I don’t mind it— I haven’t done it in a while though—“ Speaking shyly, Theodore raised his brows. “What about tonight…Could we both…Fill up those pretty holes of yours?”

With his question, excitement gleamed within Mattheo’s eyes and you swallowed. Fuck it. Why not right? “Y-yes…fuck- please do.” You practically begged the two men and Theo sat down on the seat across, stroking his cock while waiting for you.

Stumbling over, your legs shook with sensitivity, another taunting chuckle escaping Mattheo as he stalked behind you. “We will ease into it- yeah, Tesoro?” Theo murmured across your cheek as you turned around.

Theo’s hands spread your ass cheeks, spitting right onto your little hole before rubbing his thumb over it. He helped lower you onto his length, hissing from the foreign sensation. “Relax—“

Your head shot up to Mattheo’s eager voice, jerking himself off as Theo eased himself into your ass. You obliged, relaxing your body as Theodore slowly pumped himself inside of you.

“Fuck!— Little asshole is so fuckin’ tight-“

Moaning through his words, you didn’t feel pain or pressure…Just pleasure as he fully entered inside of you. Matt now walking up to your spread legs. “You’re such a hot little slut—“

Riddle complimented you but not wasting any time as he pushed his needy cock inside of your already stretched cunt, pounding into you mercilessly. One of his hands going around your throat and gripping hard.

Theo took this time to grab both of your breasts, pinching your nipples to a feeling of ecstasy. You felt so incredibly full and your mind was fuzzy with the immense amount of pleasure soaring within you.

“You weren’t wrong, Nott— She has a damn good pussy-“

The Italian just smirked over at his friend while he helped you move on his cock. You couldn’t even speak, get your raunchy thoughts out. But suddenly you felt that familiar feeling.

“I-I— don’t stop!— Fuck!- I’m gonna cum!”

Screaming with pleasure, you saw fucking stars as you hit yet another climax, this time even more intense than the first. Squirting out onto Matt’s length you swore you physically saw his eyes darken.

“Good girl— feeling so good and full, huh?” Theo spoke right against your ear, but judging by his groans he was close himself. Mattheo’s grip around your throat only tightened. “Such a good girl— gonna make me cum in this pretty cunt-“

You nodded your head, feeling Theo tugging on your nipples harder as they both seemed to fuck you harder. “Give me your cum— both of you— I want it— Fuck!- I want it inside of me— please!”

Crying out your beg, Theodore started pounding deeper inside of your hole, hearing a low growl emitting from his chest before Mattheo fucked your cunt like it was a damn need. His head shot back as he groaned loudly.

Feeling the both of them reach their own orgasm, their cocks throbbed within your walls with the sticky seed they both filled you up with. The three of you caught in haggard breaths.

You were about to speak, to say something. Anything. But you just simply relaxed against Theodore who wrapped his arms around you, his dick still balls deep in your ass while Mattheo pulled out of your cum filled cunt.

Theo leaned up to press a soft yet lingering kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t have believed you had done this but fuck- you weren’t upset about it in the least. Just as you found your words the speakers roared.

“Happy New Year to all of our guests! The lifts will be running here shortly!”

On the 12th day of Dickmas we get… Mattheo and Theodore destroying us🫦🎁

Divider pinned in my masterlist🌙

I can’t believe it’s the end of Dickmas! I hope all my smut sluts and naughty nymphs have enjoyed coming on this wild ride with me! Happy new years, I love you all bunches!💋

[eternalsunrise]

shower talk.

deadpool (wade wilson) x f!reader

wc: 750 (drabble)

tags! established relationship, sexual & murder references (duh)

notes! wade brainrot is so bad idk, logan fic coming soon pls forgive me

wade often barges into the bathroom while you’re in the shower just to sit on the toilet seat and rant about the mission he just went on, or even to ask what takeout you want for dinner. couldn’t it wait until you had clothes on? sure, but he wants to talk to you now.

unexpectedly, you decide to take a page out of his playbook.

you’ve just walked in the door after your 9-5, throwing your keys and bag haphazardly across the room in frustration. you spy the familiar rumpled up red and black suit on the floor, wade was home. you had complained last week about deadpool tracking blood into the apartment after his “work.” it seemed your boyfriend had listened and obliged. if it weren’t for your bad day, the image of him cupping his crotch as he scrambled naked into the bathroom would’ve made you smile.

you hear the water still running, but you finally understand how wade feels, this can’t wait. you open the bathroom door and throw the toilet lid down, unsure if wade even heard you enter over the sound of his own voice belting hall and oates’ greatest hits.

you sit down and let out an overdramatic sigh. your boyfriend’s voice quiets down halfway through “out of touch”

“honey bear? you’re home! these stab wounds will heal in about two minutes then you can join me. i know how you feel about seeing intestines, and i don’t want to make you gag…well scratch that i do sometimes—“

“i fucking hate men.”

you hear the sound of the shower curtain opening slightly, and wade’s head peaks out, looking at you with wide eyes, “woah language, babydoll! you know degradation turns me on.” his head tilts to the side, noticing the distress written on your face “but i have a feeling this isn’t about me…”

you spare him a narrowed glance, then watch as his head disappears. the curtain closes and you hear the water hit skin again as he resumes his shower. he’s giving you time to speak. remarkable.

“you remember that guy i told you about? the one that gave me major creep vibes? and was just an all around dick?”

you get a hum in response, and you can’t see it, but you know wade is physically biting his tongue so he doesn’t say anything. it’s endearing in a way.

you rub your face with your hands, the memory of what you’re about to say lights the fire of anger again, “well. guess who got that promotion i was being eyed for? i’ll give you a hint, it’s not someone with a vagina! and on top of that, i saw him try to look under my skirt as i was leaving! that fuck.”

you almost regretted telling him that last part, knowing where this was going. but your mind was clouded by frustration, and the water was already turned off. the rings screech against the metal shower rod as wade throws the curtain open, reaching over your head for a towel. “okay sweet thing. where does this cock suck and fuck live?”

your eyes catch a glimpse of red turning pink as it swirled into the tub drain. you shake your head, suddenly realizing the severity of what your mercenary boyfriend was implying. “no no babe please it’s not that serious! and you just got home. not to mention if people found out, you’d get in so much trouble all because of something silly that happened to me and—“

a long finger is placed over your lips. you’re eye level with wade’s v line, partially covered by the towel now wrapped around his waist. you trail your eyes upward, locking them with the one who interrupted your rambling.

“shhh. nonsense kitten. now. you’re going to tell me this guy’s address, and i’m going to go out for…” wade uses his free arm to look at a make believe watch, “hmm, about an hour. while i’m gone, you’re going to change out of this sexy pantsuit. then have a glass of wine, and touch yourself while you think of me fondly. i’ll grab dinner on the way home. yes?”

when you nod with wide eyes in agreement, he removes his finger, bending down to meet your face, “atta girl.” he praises as his lips graze your own, kiss light as a feather. he clears his throat then, patting your cheek a few times as he stands up to walk out of the bathroom. whistling as if murder was all in a day’s work (you suppose for him it is)

you sit there stunned, wondering if you just got your coworker murdered….and why you were so turned on.

[pumpkinbxtch]

hi!!! I was wondering if you could do hcs for what arguing would be like with the HOO boys

Don't talk me like that! | headcanons

— arguing with the hoO boys

warnings: angst, language, boys being...boys

who's here: jason grace, leo valdez, frank zhang ands percy jackson.

a/n: ohh ohh ohhh, yes. I can. I love drama.

— jason grace:

To get into a real fight with him, you must have come a long way because he's so peaceful and always tries to negotiate calmly, making sure both of you communicate effectively. But at the end of the day, you're like any other couple and sometimes end up having real fights.

The big issue is Jason's nature. He goes silent when he's really upset, his emotions hard to show.

When he’s that mad, you can see it on his face. It’s scary, let’s not lie.

When the ice breaks, he tries to take charge to explain what's wrong, which often makes things worse.

He keeps his distance when you argue, tense and rigid. He’s like a handsome, angry log.

Sometimes he says things reluctantly, like "don't act childish," which is so him.

Yes, he raises his voice and gets frustrated, "no, I said NO, THAT’S NOT HOW IT IS, gods…"

If you're wondering if his powers show, the answer is NEVER, or at least not against you. His mouth might taste like metal or his fingers might spark, but that's just him being really stressed.

His eyes get cloudy and grey.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples while muttering.

When things finally start to work out, he breathes better and starts talking more because he knows nothing will work if he doesn’t.

He’s practical, coming up with solutions to problems.

When the fight's over, he hugs you and kisses your forehead, relieved to be out of that situation.

Can he stay mad for days? Depends on the problem, but he’d prefer it doesn't last more than a day.

— leo valdez;

Leo and you usually argue over small things because you have that kind of relationship where you bicker and tease for fun, but when things get serious, the arguments can get heated (get it? heated? laugh, please).

That’s when things get tough. He may seem easy-going, but Leo has a strong temper and is very stubborn when he's mad. Whatever made you really fight doesn't matter because he’ll be stuck on his point.

"No, that's not how it happened." You could be contradicting each other all day until you both turn away and stop talking.

"Well, screw you!" you say, and he growls back, "Yeah, you too," swearing in Spanish. "vale ma-" "me lleva la ch-"

Yes, he switches languages mid-sentence.

"I already told you no! CUANTAS VECES TENGO QUE DECIRLO, carajo!-"

If you know Spanish, you can reply; if not...

"I don’t understand you, idiot. Say it in English or fuck yourself ." (just in case because you’re not sure what he said)

Swearing is common if he's really mad, but it's more his way of dealing with it than being mad at you.

That or sharp sarcasm.

Yes, he might cry if the argument is really bad.

His rigid feelings and insecurity can come up.

Leo is attached, so he’s constantly thinking of ways to fix it because he can’t stand being away from you for too long.

He keeps his distance, terrified of hurting you with his powers, which makes him nervous. "No, DON’T COME NEAR ME." It's for your safety, but it hurts him to see the look in your eyes when he says it.

Can he stay mad for days? Absolutely, but he misses you a lot, though his pride might keep him from showing it.

Don’t worry, he’ll eventually sit down to talk it out, and you’ll both calm down and fix things.

Then he'll give you a big hug and kiss your cheeks.

— frank zhang:

it’s hard to imagine: WHAT DID YOU DO TO FIGHT?

Yes, Frank is Mars’s son, but he’d never choose the battlefield for his lover. He’s very careful and always considerate, but yeah he can be severe when things get bad, and when isn't enough just have a serious talk.

You end up fighting in not-so-quiet whispers, with your faces and gestures being the most expressive.

"Of course not, I already told you, hey!" He raises his hands, and his body tenses up threateningly.

Frank tries to understand your point and make himself heard, always mindful of both your feelings. He knows how to set boundaries.

Sometimes, he just can’t take it anymore and signals a pause. "You know what? This is getting too much, and neither of us is in the best shape. Let’s talk tomorrow or later, please."

Does he raise his voice? Hardly, only when he really needs to make a point.

His eyes are bright, tinged with sadness and anger. The deadliest is his calm face or the way he slightly curls his lip, almost growling.

His eyebrows always seem to be touching, even if he doesn’t want them to.

He keeps a cool head to solve things.

Can he stay mad for days? Yes, while clearing his mind and thinking. He’ll come up to you, and you’ll talk it out, making things work in the end.

He’ll take your hand. You might feel guilty for pushing a guy like Frank to his limit, but he doesn’t mind having relationship problems with you:

"I hope we fight many more times, but about totally different things because it means we’ve really solved the previous issues."

— percy jackson:

wtf did you both do to get into a fight?

Percy won't waste a second, trying to resolve it immediately by asking and reflecting on his own actions. "What did I do wrong?" if it was his fault. "Can you listen to me for a second?" if it was you.

He hates being mad at you, just can’t stand it. But if the fight starts, he wants to start or finish it (or both).

Yes, he might cry.

Yes, he might raise his voice. "No, I didn't do anything. LISTEN TO ME."

Then he apologizes for it because he lost it.

He tries to hold your hands and says, "Babe, babe…"

He makes you both breathe and talk calmly.

He argues, of course, but differently. He’ll stop the conversation. "You know what? I'll think about it." He leaves or makes you leave.

Consequently, he might stay mad for days, or both of you might be mad at each other, but he’s thinking of what to say rather than just calming down. (Nothing wrong with that, everyone handles feelings differently and that's valid.)

Yes, he asks his mom.

Yes, he asks Paul.

You both end up fixing things, and he hugs you tight, giving you kisses all over your face while pouting.

"I missed you, babe."

[i-eat-mold]

Teen skk this teen skk that. How about dazais deep depressive episodes where he didn’t brush his teeth or his hair or shower and after a few days of not seeing him around work chuuya would go to his container, grab him and wash him like a dog. Wet black cat. Dazai is just annoyed. Chuuya lets him sleep at his place during the bad parts of the episode “so he doesn’t skip work leaving all the paperwork for him” but really it’s because he doesn’t like thinking about dazai alone in that cold container. Even the most annoying person on earth should have more than a mattress and four metal walls, I guess. So chuuya has him stay over during those days. Is it such a hassle really to make a little more food when cooking dinner? Both of them have always had trouble sleeping so might as well spend the night together watching shitty sitcoms or talking shit about coworkers or setting up pranks for mori instead of looking at the ceiling all night. In this essay I will.