#so sorry to the prompts tag if this pops up

[astrobei]

byler 22 for the touch prompts??

22 for touch prompts: falling asleep on the other's shoulder (+ bonus mini soundtrack that i listened to on repeat while writing this)

“Remind me again,” Mike says, as Will climbs into the passenger side of the car, “why we have to go to this thing today?”

Will gives him a look. Or his best attempt at a look anyway. He’s ninety percent sure they fall too flat to ever be effective, or Mike would have stopped saying stupid shit years ago. “This thing?” He struggles with the seatbelt for a moment before it finally clicks into place. “You mean your sister’s wedding? To my brother?”

Mike pulls a face. “If you want to get into the semantics,” he mumbles, adjusting the rearview mirror, and Will laughs.

“You’re ridiculous. It’s their wedding, Mike.”

“Rude to get married on a Saturday night,” Mike says, as if every wedding in the history of the world ever hasn’t taken place on a Saturday night. “Maybe some of us had things to do.”

“Yeah? What did you have going on?” Will asks, smoothing down the lapel of his suit. This jacket is a lint magnet like nothing he’s ever seen before, and he plucks a little piece of it away. “Hot date?”

Mike wiggles his eyebrows, and Will realizes immediately that this was the wrong thing to say. “Yeah,” Mike chirps, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “You.”

Despite himself, Will feels his cheeks turn red. It’s stupid, because he quite literally handed Mike the opportunity to say this on a silver platter, and it’s more dumb than any sort of flirtatious, except the unfortunate truth of dating Mike Wheeler is that he doesn’t even have to try and actually flirt to get Will blushing like a teenage girl. “I had that coming,” he admits, and Mike grins even harder than before. “And we didn’t have a date tonight.”

“We did! We were going to–”

“We can order pizza and watch TV when we get back, Mike,” Will chides, and, when Mike’s lower lip turns downward in something reminiscent of a pout, “this is Nancy’s wedding.”

“I was never Nancy’s favorite sibling,” Mike says noncommittally, releasing the parking brake, “she won’t even notice if I’m not there,” which one, is not true because Mike makes up about a third of Nancy’s bridal party so she will most definitely notice if he goes AWOL. And second, this is also not true because Will knows that Holly is currently in the throes of teenage angst, and Mike is still working on the angst but he’s moved on from the teenager part, at least, which is definitely earning him some points in Nancy’s book. So at worst, he’s tied with Holly. At least for the next couple of years.

And Will knows he’s not being serious anyway. For all of the fuss he’s kicking up, he knows Mike is happy for them. Will checks the backseat to make sure he put the presents in the car earlier that afternoon, and says, laughing, “Cold feet? It’s not even your wedding, Mike.”

“I know,” Mike moans, falling forward until his forehead hits the top of the steering wheel. “And it’s exciting! I’m happy for them! And your brother too, and I know your mom and Hop are so pumped, and– it’s just that I’m not so pumped about spending the evening with my family.”

Will suddenly feels very, very stupid. Jesus, he hadn’t even thought about that– about Mike’s parents being there, and his nana, the one that his mom had totally guilted Nancy into inviting because she might not live long enough to see Mike and Holly get married, Nancy, just let her have this. Which was kind of a depressing enough thought on its own, Will thinks, even without the entire conversation that had followed, the one he’d overheard Mike have on the phone in the living room, loud and frustrated before he’d slammed the phone down on the receiver hard enough for Will to hear it from their bedroom.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, then rests a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to them, okay, Mike? Just– hang out with us instead. I know Dustin’s been dying to break out his new dance moves.”

Mike cracks a tentative smile, then turns his face slightly so that one side of it is illuminated by the glow of the street lamps outside. “I’m scared he’s going to get driven away in a stretcher,” Mike admits, and Will grins. 

“Yeah, probably. It’ll be a good distraction, at least. I’ll tell him to take one for the team.”

Mike nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Will hesitates, then drops his hand to Mike’s and slots their fingers together. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Look at me.”

Mike looks up the rest of the way. He looks incredible tonight, which is something Will’s been thinking ever since they’d started getting ready an hour ago, and at least half of the reason it took him so long was because he’d been totally distracted the whole time. Maybe Will is just biased, which is a little true, sure, but Mike should definitely wear suits more– and he’s officially taking it upon himself to make sure that Mike wears suits more– because suddenly he’s tempted to take Mike up on his offer of becoming a runaway best man and going back inside and collapsing on the couch and kissing him stupid into the early hours of the morning.

“What?” Mike is saying, eyebrows twisting a little self-consciously. “You’re looking at me funny.”

“You just look really nice,” Will says simply, and then, because that comes nowhere close to how good Mike looks in a tie, “no, actually, you look– wow.”

Mike’s lips twitch, but he looks a little pleased. “Wow? Really?”

“You’ve rendered me speechless,” Will nods rapidly, and Mike’s shy smile breaks into something more genuine. “You– look at you, I mean– I can’t even– wow.”

“Will,” Mike says, drawing out the single syllable until it feels big enough to fill up the whole car. “Okay, I look nice! You can stop playing it up now.” 

His cheeks are turning red, slowly, visible even in the dim lighting of the street lamps through the windows, because it’s early fall and it’s started to get dark ridiculously early in the day. It feels like a victory, getting Mike flustered, even after a year of dating. Will smiles to himself. 

“I’m not,” Will says, then leans in across the console. “Come here. I’ll prove it.”

“You’ll–” Mike gets out, eyes going wide in surprise, “–has anyone ever told you that you’re–”

Whatever it was that people may or may not have told Will is apparently a mystery that will die with the universe, because Will never finds out. He kisses Mike with one hand still holding his, threads a hand through his hair and cups his jaw. Soft. Slow. Unhurried, even though they should have left ten minutes ago and they’re going to be cutting it real close– Will can’t be bothered to rush.

Mike hums low in the back of his throat, pleased, and shifts closer. He’s pushing himself up over the console, a hand ghosting the side of Will’s neck, when–

Beeeeep.

“What–” Will jerks backwards, startled, and Mike immediately lets go of his hand. “Did you just–”

Mike rubs his elbow and moves further away from the wheel. “I got a little distracted,” he laughs, but the tension has ebbed from his shoulders a little and his eyes are creasing up at the corners, so Will considers this a mission success, thank you. “We should probably go?”

“Good idea,” Will says, then reaches over to smooth out a stray tuft of Mike’s hair that was– he thinks, a little proud of himself– definitely not out of place before. “And hey,” he adds, before Mike can take the car out of park. “Seriously. Ignore your parents. It’s not their wedding, okay, it’s Nancy’s. And Jonathan’s. And they both want us there. Together.”

Mike’s lips press together into a thin, determined line. “You’re right,” he nods, “I know, it’s just–”

“I know,” Will echoes, and Mike shoots him a grateful smile. “Now let’s go, or we really will miss the ceremony.”

—-

They don’t miss the ceremony, which is good, because having both the best man and the– whatever Mike was– would probably not be a good look for anyone involved.

“I can’t believe you cried,” Dustin says, after the toasts are done and the speeches are given and everyone’s been supplied with enough champagne to go a little loose and maybe a little tear-happy.

Mike scowls across the table at him. “I didn’t cry,” he insists, which is kind of pointless because Will had been watching him the whole time he’d been standing up there, shuffling his feet awkwardly in place at his designated spot in between Holly and Robin Buckley, and he’d definitely cried. Just a little, but he had.

“You did,” El chimes in primly, plucking at her shrimp cocktail. “I saw.”

“Thanks, El,” Mike mutters, sinking back in his chair a little and crossing his arms. “It’s– the vows were very emotional, okay, you’d have to be made of total stone to not tear up!”

“I didn’t cry,” Lucas announces, which is a fucking lie, by the way. Will saw him dabbing at his eyes in the bathroom on the way here.

“I think it’s sweet,” he says, instead of throwing Lucas to the dogs like he maybe should have. He flashes Mike a grin, leans over in his chair to bridge the space between them and squeezes his hand, once. “They were very sappy vows, to be fair.”

Mike blinks up at him from where he’s slumped down to somewhere around shoulder height. “You didn’t cry.”

“Oh, I did,” Will assures him. “I just cried in the back with Jonathan while he was getting ready.”

“Really?” Mike perks right up. “You did?”

“Yes,” Will laughs, “and I can’t believe you’re happy about it,” and then Mike grins so wide that Will can’t help but lean in the rest of the way and press a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek.

“You two are disgusting,” Lucas says, and he’s maybe one strike away from Will speaking up about the bathroom incident after all.

“Maybe so,” Mike relents, looking properly cheered up now. “What about it?”

Mike’s grip on Will’s hand never falters. Will feels himself turn warmer with every slow pass of Mike’s thumb over his knuckles, even with their hands tucked under the tablecloth and out of view. And it isn’t from the champagne. He’s had just the one glass with dinner, which is nothing, so it must be something else that’s making him feel like this. Something–

“You okay?” Mike murmurs as his thumb pauses, briefly, on the back of Will’s hand. “You got kind of quiet out of nowhere,” and yeah, there it is.

“I meant it,” Will says, lowering his voice so their friends can’t hear them from across the table. “What I said in the car, I mean. You look beautiful.”

It’s a little amusing just how fast Mike can turn such a violent shade of red. “You can’t just say that,” he splutters. “Give a guy some warning, Jesus, Will–”

“Mm, no,” Will decides smugly, watching the red creep down the collar of Mike’s carefully starched dress shirt. Then, because the soft lighting of the venue and the way Mike’s hair has started to fall free around his face is doing something funny to his chest and stomach, Will nods to the dance floor and says, “You wanna?”

Mike hesitates, looking over his shoulder. “Dance?”

Will shrugs, then looks over to where Jonathan and Nancy are trying– and failing, quite hilariously and miserably– at a dance of their own. “I mean, it’s a wedding, and people dance at weddings. Not that either of us are good at it, but it might be fun to try?”

Mike chews nervously at his lower lip and nudges Will’s foot with his own. “I don’t know,” he admits. “My mom was eyeing me earlier and I was totally avoiding her by hiding out over here but I feel like the dance floor is fair game for a–” he waves his hands around, “pseudo-confrontation. Nancy’s only three years older than you, blah, blah. When are you going to settle down, blah, blah. Even though I’m here with my boyfriend, which apparently doesn’t count for shit, and–” Mike sighs dejectedly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring the mood down, it’s just– I was having such a good day, too.”

Will squeezes Mike’s leg, just above the knee. “You were having a good day? Really? Even though your hot date got canceled?”

“Well,” Mike rolls his eyes. “My sister got married, and now my hot date is all dressed up and sweet-talking me, so I think this is even better than pizza on the couch.” He pauses, contemplating. “Actually, scratch that. It’s not. But it’s a close second,” Mike adds, then grins and picks Will’s hand up again. “Dance– later, maybe? I’m really enjoying this for right now.”

“Of course. Anything you want,” Will smiles, as the music in the background softens into something more mellow. He pulls his chair up so that it’s flush with Mike’s, their thighs pressed up together in one line, and passes Mike a flute of champagne from the table. “You might want to drink this, though, because your mom looks like she might be heading over here any second.”

“Thanks,” Mike groans, then knocks the whole thing back in one go.

—-

Will knows that a big fancy flashy wedding isn’t really Jonathan’s style, and he didn’t think it was Nancy’s either. Which is why he was surprised to get an invite to an event at all, because he’d honestly sort of thought they’d make a courthouse affair of it and then have everyone over for dinner or something. They’d been engaged for, like, three years, because it was career stuff and then more career stuff and then a couple months of long distance while Jonathan was doing some photojournalism thing in London, and Will had figured at some point that they’d get so tired of being engaged that they’d show up the next day with papers from City Hall and that would be that.

Apparently, though, in a not-so-surprising turn of events, Nancy Wheeler takes to event planning like a moth to flame, and Jonathan was immediately dragged along for the ride. He didn’t seem too upset about it, though, when Will had asked. “It’s Nancy,” he shrugged, like that explained everything. And maybe it did, because not too long after that, Will started dating Mike and everything immediately clicked.

Which is maybe the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him. For anyone else, Will would not even entertain the thought of fussing over seating arrangements, and he’s certain he only knows, like, five types of flowers– if pink and red roses count as two different types. It’s Nancy, Jonathan had said, and Will hadn’t gotten it then but he does now.

Mike’s hand twitches on Will’s bicep, fingers clutching once at the fabric of his shirt. Will’s suit jacket lies abandoned on the chair behind them. Mike had leaned over maybe half an hour ago to rest his head on Will’s shoulder, as it got later in the night and guests started slowly trickling out of the room. And then, maybe fifteen or so minutes ago, his breathing had evened out, fingers slackening in their grip against his arm, and Will doesn’t know how the hell Mike can fall asleep in a room that’s filled with so much noise, but he can’t help but find it endearing– wholly, completely, embarrassingly endearing.

And he gets it, he does. It’s Mike, he thinks, chest flooding with warmth in a strange, hollowed-out way, like there’s nothing left inside him except this feeling. It’s Mike. It’s Mike. It’s–

“Hey, hon,” comes a voice behind him, and Will startles, just a little, then immediately relaxes.

“Oh, hey mom,” he whispers, and Mike’s hand twitches lightly against his arm again. Joyce gives him an amused look, glancing down at Mike, then back at Will.

“Did he fall asleep?” she asks, pulling up a chair next to them. “I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.”

Will feels himself smile before he actually realizes he’s doing it. “Yeah,” he snorts softly, “but I have no idea how.”

As if roused by some sixth sense, like he knew they were talking about him, Mike stirs, lifting his head off of Will’s shoulder and blinking blearily. “What–”

“Shh,” Will says, and Joyce bites back a smile. “Go back to sleep.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Mike says, and then yawns loud and conspicuously. “Shit– I’ve just been so tired this week, sorry, Will–”

“Don’t be,” he says immediately, even though his shoulder and arm are starting to fall asleep, just a little. Will drops a kiss to the top of Mike’s head, and feels him start to smile into his shoulder before stiffening, a little self-consciously, and glancing up at Joyce.

“Um–”

“Oh,” his mom waves a hand, “don’t mind me. You two are so sweet. You remind me of Nancy and Jonathan after they started dating. Jonathan would turn so red, but maybe not as red as you’re turning right now, Will–”

“Mom!”

“Red?” Mike perks up, and then, “Oh you are turning red!”

“Shut up,” Will mumbles, but he’s sure it’s not convincing in the slightest. “Did you come over here just to embarrass me?”

Joyce puts two hands up in the air like hey, don’t look at me. “I was just going to let you know that Hop and I are taking off,” she says, eyes sparkling. “He has the early shift tomorrow, but Mike, now that I’ve caught you– your speech was wonderful. Really. Jim was tearing up and he told me to never let you find out but I figured you’d want to know.”

Mike blinks. He still looks a little out of it, still a little red from sleep or the champagne from earlier, but he smiles, sudden and pleased. “Really?”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Joyce grins conspiratorially. “But yes. It was very sweet.”

“Thanks Mrs. Byers,” Mike says, the words stretching into another yawn, quieter this time. He groans lightly, then pushes himself off of Will’s shoulder and sits back up.

Will peers over at him. “Are you tired? You want to head back?”

Mike rubs at his eyes with both hands, blinks a few times in rapid succession, then shakes his head like he’s trying to shake the sleep out of his body, like it’s a physical thing. “No,” he smiles, and it’s a little bit tired, but he looks happy. “No, not yet.”

“Okay,” Will whispers, and he’s probably grinning like an idiot, but he can’t help it. That’s the common denominator here, between every interaction he ever has with Mike– that he’s so happy that he just can’t help it. “You still want to get pizza on the way back?”

“God, yes please,” Mike groans in relief. “Um. No offense, but wedding food is just– like what the hell, man, I’m starving. That was nothing.”

“Pizza it is,” Will agreed easily, mentally making a pros and cons list of getting a large and having leftovers or saving money and going for a medium. “Pepperoni?”

“Anything goes,” Mike is saying, and then Joyce clears her throat.

“Well,” she says, snapping her purse shut and smiling. “Hop and I are heading out but– oh, drive safe you two. Eat a slice for me, actually, I’ve been craving pizza all week.”

“Bye, mom,” Will smiles, craning his neck upwards as she plants a kiss on top of his head.

“You too,” she says to Mike, who barely has time to blink in surprise before his mom is dropping a kiss on his forehead. She rests a hand on his shoulder briefly as she smiles and says, “I’d welcome you to the family, Mike, but you’ve been a part of it for years already.”

“I– bye, Mrs. Byers,” Mike says faintly, eyes wide, as Joyce waves goodbye. He turns back to Will. “Part of the family? Really?”

“It’s what you get for dating your best friend,” Will murmurs, glancing out over the rapidly emptying room before tugging on Mike’s arm until he falls into him with a small, startled noise. “You get smothered by my mom.”

“I wouldn’t call it smothering,” Mike laughs, eyes darting down to Will’s mouth. He swallows, and says, softly, “Plus, I like your family. No complaints from me.”

Will hums, soft. “I’m sorry about– you know. How did that go?”

“Nancy said she survived mom and dad with minimal damage,” Mike laughs drily. “And nana too. And I managed to avoid them long enough that they didn’t have a chance to ambush me, so.”

“Good,” Will says, kissing Mike softly on the corner of his mouth, then again, right over the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s a little warm, a little loose and pliant from sleep, and he moves easily, tucking a finger into the loop of Will’s tie and pulling him in closer. Their knees bump against each other under the tablecloth, chair legs scraping gently across the polished floor as Will leans forward. “I’m glad,” Will says into the kiss, and Mike smiles.

“Me too,” Mike whispers, tucking his hands into Will’s hair and pulling away, just barely. “Because now they’re gone and all of our annoying cursory invite relatives are gone and it’s just you and me– and Nancy, and Jonathan, and El and Lucas and– whatever. I think I owe you a dance.”

There’s something slow and melodic playing as Nancy and Jonathan make the last of their rounds, most of the tables empty and the dance floor cleared out. Will grins, kisses Mike one more time for good measure, then stands up. “Okay,” he agrees, “but I’m leading.”

“I don’t think it makes a difference, because neither of us can–”

“I’m leading,” Will says again, and Mike chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way, Will.”

[tiza0925]

Hello! I'm new to this but have you ever thought about any of your favorite characters while they're in the act and you look down at a certain part and they're so big on you that it scares you but they're pretty sure it could fit.I don't know if you could write something like that, sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.

hellooo, absolutely love this prompt so much ty for this ♡

men that make it fit | 18+

warnings/tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, size difference, fingering, pet names, praise kink, squirting, raw sex, implied multiple orgasms, large cocks ♡

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Big men who just cover your entire body with theirs when they’re on top of you. 

Guys who make you feel so small when you’re on their lap, their hands are so damn big that they can cover your entire waist, legs, and hands—practically engulfing you. 

Big men that just pin you to the mattress while making out with you, they’re so strong without needing to try, and you probably should feel scared by the difference in strengths but god—you feel so secure. 

And you know he’ll take care of you even if he can hurt you sometimes—never on purpose unless you want it—because of how massive he is. 

Guys who feel just a little bad when they hear you cry from them pushing their thick fingers inside you—stretching your poor cunt and making you leak all over his hand as he curls his fingers inside your plush walls, coaxing out a throbbing orgasm from you. 

“Such a sweet little thing for me,” You hear him murmur, watching as your face twists with pleasure, and he can see the slight worry in your eyes as he fucks you with his fingers. “My baby is taking me so well already.” 

But can you take his cock? 

Fuck—what if it’s too big? 

It must be—his fingers are already too much for you—his dick will be nearly impossible to fit inside you. 

“You think you can be good and take my cock?” You whine, feeling heady and muddy as he pins both of your hands above your head on the bed, while his other hand continues to twist and curl inside you, his thumb pressing and rubbing your swollen clit. “I want to feel my favourite pussy, sweetheart.” 

But you suck in a shaky breath, eyes wide and scared because you know you can’t fit all of him in, and he chuckles breathlessly as he kisses your lips so softly, making you melt against him. 

“Don’t be scared,” He kisses your cheek, then gives your trembling lower lip a gentle pull with his mouth, trying to get you relaxed as he strums his fingers through your sopping folds, his voice low and deceptively soothing. “I’ll be gentle with you, okay?” 

He always is—and that’s the thing. 

No matter how gentle he tries to be—he still ends up stretching you so wide that you think you might actually split in half, the sting of him inside you being too much that you cry sometimes.

He kisses you, and reassures you, hand running up and down your body to spread goosebumps all over your skin. 

Then he’s pushing his pants off to let his fat cock bounce free—it lands on your belly, all hot and heavy, and your breath hitches as electricity sparks through your body—and your heart rate doubles with every passing moment, just waiting for him to stuff you with his cock. 

“Relax for me,” He says while guiding his dick to slide between your plush pussy, letting your slick folds hug his length and coat them in juices as he rocks his hips—his cock head bumping against your clit every time his hips are flushed against yours. 

“You feel that, baby?” Your lashes flutter, your eyes half-lidded as he works you up, making your cunt pulse as he glides his heavy cock over it. “You’re gonna be so good and fit all of me, okay?” 

You gulp, but you still nod—because you want to be good for him. 

You want to feel him and make him feel good. 

And he watches you, focused, taking in every twitch of your features as he slowly pushes the head of his dick inside you—his eyes alight with heat when he sees the way your mouth pops open with a gasp, already feeling the intense stretch of him. 

“You’re okay, baby,” he shushes you, sliding his hands under your thighs to guide them around his waist, and you whine as you hook your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, sloppily kissing him as he waits for you to adjust. “You feel so tight already—fuck—”

He groans, his voice vibrating against you, and you begin to breathe heavily as he pushes his fat cock into you—making you feel every agonizing inch as your pussy struggles to swallow him whole. 

“I—“ Your sentence gets cut short as you choke, already feeling him in your lungs and he’s only halfway in, “I can’t—”

“You can,” One of his hands comes up to swipe a fallen tear on your cheek with his thumb, while his other hand pins you to the bed by the waist. “I know you can, baby, you always did before.”

Which is true—you always did but—

It’s just so fucking big—holy shit—

You bite your lip, and your eyes squeeze shut as you try your hardest to relax—your fluids being pushed out as he lodges his dick inside your warm, plush walls, causing a wet mess all over your thighs and bed. 

You hold him as if you’re clinging onto dear life—taking all of him as he kisses you through it—until his hips finally press against your ass, his cock so deep that your limbs grow numb and you swear you can orgasm already. 

“There you go, sweetheart,” He purrs, waiting a moment as your pussy throbs around him, feeling abused and soaked, and he smiles down at you so achingly soft. “Taking me all like a good girl for me.” 

Then he pulls back—

“Oh god—” And you keen when he rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock along your walls, and he sets a pace of fucking you—getting you wet and your eyes to roll back as he becomes greedy with your pussy. 

“Look, baby,” He grunts, thrusting his cock in and out, his length coming out slick and creamy from your arousal, and he grips your face—fingers squishing your cheeks—to make you look down. “Look how well you’re taking me.” 

Your vision is foggy, you’re barely able to comprehend anything except for the dick inside your sore cunt, and you blink blearily as you try to look at what he wants you to see and—

Fuck.

You watch the way his cock disappears into your pussy, his girth forcing its way into you—and you let out a shaky breath at the way you’re taking it all in. 

Just like he said you would. 

“Told you I’ll make it fit, sweetheart, I always do,” You hear him murmur, and you force yourself to relax into a ragged breath as your limps melt into the mattress beneath you.

You feel like you’re being split in half as he fucks you over and over, bringing you higher and higher until you’re cumming all over him—gushing out liquid as you squirt on his cock with a wet moan, his name on your tongue—

And he takes good care of you throughout it all. His aftercare overwhelms you with cuddles of love and affirmation.

He loves you too much, anyway.

End.

Bokuto, Oikawa, Ushijima, Atsumu, Suna, Gojo, Choso, Sakusa, Geto, Sukuna, Nanami, Akaza, Oda, Kuroo, Hinata, plus any of your fav characters ♡

Masterpost

[smutoperator]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Yu Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader

Tags: ball sucking, big tits worship, body bang, creampie, dirty talk, footjob, lube, married man, riding and grinding, snow, titfucking

Word count: 4820

It was a very cold day as the winter got harsher. You definitely didn't want to go outside today. However, you started hearing some unusual noises in your backyard, finding a pretty girl playing in the snow.

"What are you doing outside in this cold weather? You're going to freeze," you said to the girl. "Sorry, my manager's car broke down, and I can't go back to my dorm, so I decided to kill some time playing in the snow," Karina answered. "Come inside; you must be freezing," you said to her. "Thank you," Karina replied.

"I'm going to prepare some hot drinks for you," you said to Karina. "You're so kind," she said, taking some of her heavy gear out as she went inside. You went to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate for Karina, wondering how such a pretty girl ended up right by your house.

Karina drank the hot chocolate you offered her. "Thank you once again," she said. "How can I pay you?" she asked. "There is no need to; I decided to protect you from the cold; it's all on me," you answered her. "Okay, fine, but what if I want to pay you anyway?" Karina asked. "What do you mean?" you asked her.

"I mean this," Karina started taking off her clothing until she was just wearing her bra and then flashed you her big and saggy tits. "I think you're going to like them; everybody seems to," she said, very confident of her assets.

"What the fuck are you doing?" you asked her, very confused by the scene but deep in your head agreeing with her; she indeed got such perfect tits. "Come on, do you wanna taste them?" Karina asked, getting up from the table and putting them right beside your mouth. You hesitated at first, but those milky melons are like magnets; you can't resist them for long.

You rested your face in Karina's left boob, much to her enjoyment. But it didn't take long for you to start sucking them like a newborn baby getting fed by his mother. Karina looked down and enjoyed the way you worshipped them, pushing her right boob as well. You closed your eyes and felt them hit you softly. "Nice and slow," she said as you felt the texture and smell of it while putting your face right between her big tits.

You softly kissed Karina's nipples. "Calm down, you're moving too fast," she said, prompting you to open your eyes. She then slowly drove them to your mouth, grabbing both her boobs and rubbing them in your face. You sniffed them, amazed by how good she smelled. You started kissing them right by their areola. "There you go," Karina said, approving it and bringing her tits together so you could play with both. Your kisses got louder and louder, and soon you were tonguing her nipples too.

"Slow down," Karina said as you tried to grope her boobs. "Just let me guide you," she continued, moving her boobs up and down your face before burying it right in the middle of her melons and using them to suffocate you, hitting the side of your face with them. "You're doing well," she said, kissing you as she tried to take it slow again, but this time, you jumped over her and grabbed her massive milkers, sucking them and slapping her nipples with your tongue, making her moan for the first time. you moved from tit to tit, leading to more moans and laughs as you slapped them together and then sucked them using no hands, making her saggy boobs stretch and then popping them out of your mouth, making sounds resembling a ballon.

"Yes," Karina approved of your moves as you kept worshipping her big tits; you slapped them against your face and then motorboated her boobs. Karina decided to pump the brakes a bit and pushed away from you, but you just kept going, stretching her arms and hitting her boobs, making her smile while doing so. She started taking her bottom clothes off one by one until she showed you her sexy ass, which you spanked as soon as it got in your sight and then slowly took her panties down while you slapped her tits.

You stared at Karina's naked body from top to bottom, amazed by how hot it was. She truly felt like a specimen from another planet, a superhuman. Pretty face, big tits, a perfect slim waist, and honey thighs, she got everything.

Karina guided you to the living room, sitting on your couch and spreading her legs for you, showing off her pink pussy in full display, massaging it and teasing you. "Hmmm, I can't wait for you to smash it. I knew the moment I saw you in the snow that you got a big cock, you were already hard for me in that freezing cold weather," she said. "I won't be going home until you put every inch of that thick cock in me, and fill me up" she continued.

Damn, you wondered how she noticed that. But Karina quickly got up and closed her legs. "Now, you're gonna tell me where your bedroom is, and I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you," she said.

You loved Karina's boldness, quickly driving her to your bedroom. As soon as you two got there, she shoved you in your bed and quickly stripped you of any clothing. You were wearing a lot of them, but Karina was so fast they were all gone in less than 30 seconds. She crawled on top of the bed and kissed you while already grabbing your massive, throbbing erection. You two stayed sharing kisses for a bit, but you quickly tried to move down her body, licking her tits and grabbing her ass, to which she countered by grabbing your shaft even harder.

"I can feel it getting harder and harder for me," Karina talked dirty to you. "Your balls are so nice to touch; I hope they are full of cum; my pussy needs it," she continued as she massaged them and touched the tip of your cock with her nipples. As she did it, you dove into them and gave them a little bit. "Fucking bite that nipple," she said as you worshipped her tits again and spanked her ass. "Hmmm baby, yes, put your hands all over me," Karina said with a big smile on her face.

Karina quickly regained control, climbing on top of you and rubbing your shaft against her big tits, You spanked her ass as she kissed you, but it was difficult to contain her appetite. "Oh my God, you're so fucking hard," she said, spitting on your cock and touching the tip of it in her tits. "Fuckkkk, is it all for me?" she asked, looking at your massive cock. "Yes, all yours," you confirmed.

"Oh my gosh," Karina said as she stroked your cock, very impressed with its size; she played with your cock. "I just love feeling every inch in my hands, squeezing and stroking it," she said as she played with your foreskin. "I just want to put it in my mouth so bad," she continued, spitting on your cock again.

"Hmmm, I love feeling it on my chest," Karina said as she moved your shaft between her tits, quickly unveiling her best weapon as she started titfucking it. "I just love the way it slides up and down my big tits, nice and slow," she says. "You like the way it fucks those pretty tits too?" you asked her. "Of course," she answered.

"Oh my God, the way my tits press, it is so good," Karina says as she kisses you and then starts moving very fast. "I just love that feeling; let me rub it right on my nipple," she says as she keeps teasing your shaft with her big tits. You pour some lube on them to help her slide them better, which she approves. "Oh perfect, cover them in that," she says.

"Sensitive right there?" Karina asks as she finds different ways to move your cock between her tits each time. "Fuck, I just love playing with them," she says. "Oh shit, keep moving like that," you say as your foreskin keeps popping in and out as Karina bounces her tits and kisses you. "So good, right? Those big, fat tits wrapped around that cock," she asks, moving her tits faster and paying special attention to the tip.

"Let me rub it on my nipple," Karina says. Then she lets you grab her tits as she keeps moving them. "That cock feels so good between my tits, but I have other ways to tease it," she says, licking the tip of your cock and coughing on it. "My mouth wants to taste that cock so bad, oh yeah," she says, deepthroating your cock. "Oh, it feels so good when it touches the back of my throat. I love worshipping that cock," she says, taking it deeper in her mouth and spitting all over it.

"My mouth is watering for that cock; I can't wait for you to use it to fuck the shit out of me," Karina says. You push her head further down your shaft as she gags on it before moving to worshipping your balls. "Keep going, keep that dick wet," you say. "Yes, I will, baby," she replies. "Come here and fuck my face," she continues.

You grab Karina's pretty face and start thrusting hard against it, making her cough all over your dick. After that, she goes back to jerking your cock off and rubs her feet on your body before moving them around your cock and starting a footjob alongside a handjob. "Hmmm, my spit made that cock so slippery," she says with a big smile on her face.

Karina uses her feet to worship your cock. "That's so fucking hot; I can feel your cock enjoying it," she says, increasing the speed of her footjob and touching her toes to your balls before you grab them and keep them moving. "Perfect, keep stroking yourself with my feet," she says.

"Oh, this cock is gonna stretch me out so well," Karina says as she prepares to finally climb on top of it. "Nice and slow, yeah, ahhhh," she says as she puts it deep in her pussy from the start. "I wanna feel that whole cock in me," she says as you spread her ass, and she moves really slowly on that dick, getting herself acclimated with every inch of it. "Nice and deep in that pussy, I want every inch," Karina says.

Slowly, Karina picks up the pace, her big tits starting to bounce in front of you. "Oh God, your cock feels amazing," she says. "I love those hands in my ass," she continues as you grab them for extra grip. "You like it when I bounce on that cock?" she asks as she finally moves fast. "Yes," you answer.

"Fuck, it's so big in my pussy," Karina says as she starts shaking her ass faster, before coming to a sudden stop after a few squats. "I love grinding on that big cock," she says. "My pussy is feeling so stretched out," she continues.

Karina squats on your cock as you just watch her big tits bounce faster and faster and her moan harder and harder. "Oh yes, please," she says. You push your dick up her cunt. "Just like that, stretch my little pussy," she begs. "Perfect, I love how your balls hit my asshole," she says.

Truly, very few girls can spice things up in bed the way Karina does. You love the way she just bounces on your cock with hard squats and creams all over your cock. "That big cock makes me cum so hard; let me grind on it a bit," Karina says as she pauses her bouncing for a perfectly timed slowdown that allows her to feel every inch for longer. "My pussy is so fucking wet with this cock all the way deep inside me," she says.

"You like how I bounce on that big cock?" Karina asks. She can tell you do by the way you spank her ass as soon as she asks it. Her pussy starts queefing as she feels over the moon with your cock shaping her walls all the way deep into her cervix. She lets you pump it up a bit. "Harder, harder, right there, don't stop, don't stop," she says as your balls hit her ass cheeks.

"I need to taste it," Karina says as she climbs out of your cock to suck it. "Oh my God, that cock is so fucking hard," she continues as you feel exhausted already just by her little ride, and she keeps going with all the energy in the world, licking the tip of it like crazy and bobbing her head on it. "Oh shit," you say, trying to match her sucking with a couple of lazy thrusts that soon get fast enough to make her gag. But Karina is relentless and stays choking on your cock even with your hard pushes.

"Hey, baby, do you want to worship that pussy you just fucked?" Karina asks. "Come here," she says, lying on the bed and spreading her legs. You promptly attend to her request, diving hard inside her queefing cunt while massaging her big tits. "Such a good view of that pink pussy and amazing body, ahhhhh," Karina says as she moans. "Just fucking suck that clit, rub your face on me," she says, grabbing it as she grinds her cunt on it and squirts a bit. You quickly go crazy, moving faster and faster over her folds to match her grinding. "OH MY GOD, FUCK, OH YEAH, suck that pussy," Karina screams and moans as you only increase your speed.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna cum in your face," Karina announces as her legs shake and she squirts a fountain on your face. "Oh baby, you make me cum so hard," Karina says. "You know what? you should get a reward for that. I need that dick so fucking bad in me, put it back in my pussy as your reward," she commands.

You fuck Karina in missionary position, her spreading more lube to make it easier for you to hit deep in her pussy. "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO DEEP," she screams as your cock bulges under her belly and you muffle her moans with your thumb while she massages that clit. "Stretch my fucking cunt like that," she says just as you grope her tits. Karina spreads her pussy lips open, her legs trembling again over her head.

"MAKE ME CUM, MAKE ME CUM, MAKE ME CUM AGAIN, KEEP GOING, AHHHHH," Karina says as she creams all over your cock. Your body gets. "Just spread my fucking pussy open like that, oh yeah," Karina moans like crazy as you massage her pussy and tits at the same time. You increase your speed, pinning Karina's left leg against her left tit while letting her right boob freely bounce. "FUCK. FUCK. FUCK, GIVE ME MORE; THAT'S SO MUCH COCK FOR ME. FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she moans like a good slut, smiling as she gets pounded harder and harder at each minute. "OH YEAH, RIGHT THERE, RIGHT THERE, FUCK YEAH, FUCK YEAH, AHHHHHH, MAKE ME CUM RIGHT NOW, AHHHHHH," Karina keeps moaning as your thursts keep speeding up, her big tits completely pinned to her long and thicc legs, her cunt completely spread out as you bang her body the way it should be fuck. "Bottom out inside of me," Karina moans as you hit her cervix and orgasms again.

Karina lies on her side as she lets you slide into her pussy in a spooning position, you teasing her entrance before going in. "Ohhh, work that cock in there," she begs as you stretch her pussy out slowly and suck her tits up top, pouring some lube in her still-tight hole even after all that pounding. "Spread the shit out of me, please," she demands as the lube keeps pouring on your slippery cock.

"Perfect, I can feel every inch; that's so good," she says as you take a slower, more passionate approach to digging deeper in her pussy while also paying lots of attention to kissing her neck and sucking and groping her boobs. "Nice and deep," Karina commands as she gets herself over the moon. "I love the way you suck my tits while going super deep," she says.

"Holy shit, I'm so fucking wet; I want you to fuck me harder. please, don't fucking stop," Karina commands as you increase the pace and grope her boobs harder. "Keep going, fuck me harder, AHHHHHH," Karina begs and gets it as you hit her cunt at full speed. "SPREAD MY PUSSY OPEN HOLY FUCK," she screams as you pound her and make her boobs bounce like pinballs. "FASTER, FASTER," she keeps asking and you oblige, just destroying that sexy pink pussy at will while she moans and screams. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, PLEASE DON'T STOP" she keeps screaming.

"I love the way you fuck my brains out," Karina says, putting her legs up and massaging your shoulders while you keep pounding her. "Turn around; I want to see that sexy ass and make those big tits bounce," you tell her. "Oh yeah," she says, immediately following as she gets herself on all fours, you massage her ass before grabbing her waist and pounding her pussy again. Karina turns around. "Let me see that big fucking dick going inside me," she says, spreading her pussy once again.

"Look how I spread my little fucking hole for you, baby," Karina says. You react and spank her ass, only making her happier. "Keep going, baby, hit that sexy ass," she says, flaunting it while her massive udders freely bounce now. She covers her ass with your lube, making it very slippery. "Rub that shit in my ass, make me shine even more than I already do," she orders. You increase the speed, making Karina moan sexily. "Take that whole fucking dick in my—oh my god, make my ass bounce, yes," she says as you grab her even harder than before. "Keep going, make those big fat tits bounce, AHHHHH," she orders, getting interrupted by another hit in her ass that makes her scream. This slut is truly untamed as she starts bouncing her ass on all fours on your cock. "I just love being fucked like that," she says.

Karina reaches to massage her clit as your cock keeps pounding her pink pussy from behind, her tits getting bouncier than ever. "Oh yeah, just fucking drill my pussy, hit me like that, oh yeah, make me cum, please, fucking destroy me, put that whole dick in me, fuck me like a slut, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK." She keeps talking even as you tie her arms behind her back in a futile attempt to tame this big tit bitch. You try to show your strength by fucking Karina as hard as you can, but that only makes the smile in her face bigger and bigger, she's truly a superhuman creature, more explosive than a supernova, capable of causing whiplash even to the strongest guy. She burns it up, spices it up and leaves nothing behind, a next level force of nature.

"Fuck, just destroy me, work that cock in there, don't be shy, baby, hit me hard and deep, spread me wide open, ohhhh, I love that cock," Karina says in the middle of a lot of smiling. You spank her ass, but it's just futile. "You keep spanking me because that sexy ass can't stop bouncing hard on your cock, poor baby," she answers. She may be the one taking the pounding, but she's the one toying with you. "Look at those fucking balls; I can feel all that cum building up, ready to explode in my perfect pussy," she says.

"You like how that big cock slides in and out of me?" Karina asks. "You like how it stretches my little pussy? Oh fuck," she continues. "Keep going, stretch me out, please, take it deep, put every inch in there, just like that, keep spreading my ass, don't take your hands off me," she keeps saying with a huge smile on her face.

"Damn it, you're such a fucking slut. I should have never let you inside my house, you big tit bitch," you say to her as Karins starts shaking her ass up and down your cock while it stays deep in her pussy. "Oh baby, come on, it was very cold out there, but as soon as I got inside I lit up the entire house, you knew from the beginning, you always wanted me, I saw the way you looked at my big tits when I was laying in the snow, guys stare at them like you did every time I enter any room," she answers, smiling once again to you.

"Oh my God, I love being stuffed by that fucking dick," Karina says as you two have been fucking in the same position for a while now. Maybe it's time to switch it up. You slow down, enjoying a last few thrusts in her cunt from behind while you spread her ass and she fingers her clit. "Fuck, my clit is so sensitive; you hit it so hard. I wanna cum again so fucking bad, make me do it, please, FUCKKKKKK", Karina says. "KEEP IN THERE, DON'T PULL IT OUT UNTIL I CUM,," Karina says, covering your cock full of her juices and laughing like a mad girl while her already very red asscheeks shake.

"Put that cock back in my mouth," Karina orders as she spits all over your dick and tastes her juices. You look at her amazing body while she slurps your shaft in her mouth. "Your cock tastes so good, hmmm," she says. "Soon you're gonna put this back inside me, make me cum again and again because I want it," she says, licking your balls and allowing you to have a perfect view of her ass. No matter how much you see of her body, it always amazes you how perfect it is from head to toe. If you were one of those mythological authors, you would definitely say Karina is the goddess of fertility with those big, saggy tits and hot body.

"Let me put that pussy in your face," Karina says as she facesits you and gives you a 69 while grinding her cunt on your mouth and covering your cock full of spit as she chokes on it without using her hands, and your tongue massages her throbbing pussy. "Ohhh yeah, let me shake my fucking pussy on you," she says as she moves her body sideways, now in a standing-up position that makes her saggy boobs drop down quite a lot while she reaches to stroke your cock.

"Tell me you want to put your cock back in me," Karina says. "I do," you promptly answer as she sits back on top of you, allowing you to suck her tits like a baby while she grinds her asscheeks on your shaft. "Hmmm, look at the way your cock likes being wrapped around my ass, just like it does to my big tits," she says. "You know, I was gonna let you fuck my ass too, but you were a bad boy, called me a slut, which I know I am, but you can't say it," she says while pouring more lube on your cock for an easier rubdown. "Because of that you're going to be facing more punishment, I'll sit that pussy on that big dick and bounce on it until your balls explode," she continues as she jerks your cock off and then inserts it back in her pussy.

"HOLY FUCK, it stretches me out so good; it feels so good in me," Karina says as she puts every single inch of that dick inside her pussy, the hood of her clit landing right where your balls are positioned. "Work that cock in there, please," she commands as you start pushing your shaft up her pussy. "I want every inch; go nice and deep," Karina says as she spreads. "Oh God, I feel so full," Karina says as you pump it up and down her pussy. "Go deep, go deep, please, ahhhhh, yesss, hmmm," she moans as your balls now hit her clit nonstop and you grope her tits, making her smile a lot.

"OH MY GOD, THAT COCK IS SO BIG," Karina screams. "HARDER, HARDER, AHHHHH, JUST GO FUCKING CRAZY IN THAT PUSSY!" she keeps pushing, trying to bounce a bit herself as it gets deeper and deeper in her cunt. "I love how it hits all the way in the back of my pussy, yes, yes, AHHHHH, PLEASSE, FUCKKK, GO DEEPER AND DEEPER IN ME, FUCK YEAH, USE THAT FUCKING SLUTTY PUSSY" she keeps moaning and rubbing her clit as you keep pounding. "I love watching my titties bounce while you fuck me," she continues as she pinches her clit while your cock piunds her and you grope her saggy bouncy tits.

"Spank my ass and let me take that fucking dick," Karina says as you clap her cheeks with your hips hitting it nonstop. "Oh, it's so fucking slippery," Karina says as your big cock keeps sliding in and out of her pussy with ease. "Give me all that fucking dick, oh God," Karina moans as you pound her harder and harder and suck her big bouncy tits, before slowing down and letting her bounce on your cock by herself as she does her squats on your cock. "Ohhh, look at my pussy just gripping the whole fucking thing," she says.

Karina clings on to your body, pressing her big chest against yours while her pussy is queefing. "Oh, I love to ride that big fucking dick, deeper and deeper each time in my pussy," she says. Her squatting only gets faster the more you spank her butt, her pussy completely obliterating your cock at each bounce. Now she's the one spanking her own ass, getting crazier and crazier and smiling each time your cock reaches the furthest depths of her pussy. "I love the way you stretch my little fucking hole; you stretch me so nice, I want to keep this dick in me all day, make my pussy sore as it pounds me like a good slut," she says.

You pull out your cock a bit and slap your tip on Karina's clit, but she's so needy at this point she can't stay a single second. Karina now bounces like a mad girl. "YES, YES, YES, GIVE ME THAT FUCKING DICK RIGHT NOW, OH YEAH, FUCK ME REALLY HARD," she screams. She's ready to make you cum at any second as her bounces get faster and faster. "I want to get this dick so fucking hard it can't stop cumming all over my pussy," she bluntly shows her intentions.

"I want you to cum in me; I want you to put your load in me, please," Karina commands. "Oh, that big cock just stretches my pussy perfectly, oh god," she says. "I want to feel that hot cum in me, my pussy is gonna make that big cock cum soon," she continues as she grinds on your cock and you suck her big tits. "You want me to grind on that cock until you cum?" Karina asks. "Yes," you answer. "Then put every last drop in me," she says.

As soon as she says these words, you promptly unload in her pussy, spreading her pussy as your cum leaks out of her pink hole. "Let me taste some of this yummy cum," Karina says as it falls on your body and she licks it, while also licking your shaft. "Hmmm, still sensitive?" she asks as your balls are completely drained and you collapse on the bed, but Karina keeps going, slurping all that cum that fell into your abs. "Hmmm, it tastes so good," she says, giving a little kiss and lick to the tip of your cock as a way to thank you. "I can never get enough of this cock," she says.

Karina leaves the room as you remain on the bed completely naked. The next thing you see when waking up is your wife. Karina had put all her clothes back, except one, which she left on the kitchen table and gave the evidence your wife needed.

"Whose bra is this?" your wife asks.

"It's yours; I bought it for Christmas," you lie to her.

"Cut the crap; my tits are not that big," she answers.

[zepskies]

Headcanon: Body Insecurity/Appreciation

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Beau Arlen x Reader, Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

AN: This one was requested by one of my lovely Patreon members, @roseblue373. 💜 It's a special one to me personally, being plus-sized myself and having gone through my share of insecurities. Wish I had one of these guys to make it better lol!~

Prompt/Request: Great job with the latest Dean/Beau/Ben reacts vignettes! I'd love to see one where reader has put on weight and isn't happy with their body, and how each would make her feel better!! IF the muse agrees, of course! ❤️

HC: How Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen and Soldier Boy (Ben) would react to your body insecurity.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Established relationship, body insecurity (but also body appreciation), thicc thirty, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, spiciness/smuttishness.

Dean Winchester

You've started breezing past mirrors when you get out of the shower.

Because if you catch sight of your own reflection, you can't help but utter a sigh, your lips dipping into a frown.

In the privacy of the room you share with Dean in the bunker, you take a risk in unwrapping the towel from your body in front of the mirror.

You inspect yourself with growing dejection, noting all the places that are rounder, heavier, less firm than they used to be.

Looks like no amount of running down leads and killing monsters has been enough to keep you in shape.

Too much shitty fast food, too many times you indulged yourself with snacks and dessert alongside your foodie boyfriend.

"What'cha doin', sweetheart?" Dean asks. He steps into the room while wiping donut icing from the corner of his mouth.

Speak of the devil.

When Dean finally catches you frowning at yourself in the mirror, you inhale sharply and close the towel back up.

"Nothing. Just need to get dressed," you reply quickly. "Shower's open."

You try to offer him a smile, despite the pang of jealousy when you eye him.

He gave you the first chance at the shower after the latest case wrapped up, so he's still wearing most of his FBI suit, sans jacket. The white dress shirt is rolled up to his elbows, a few days of scruff neatly trimmed across his cheeks.

The man can cram an entire pizza down his gullet and wash it down with three slices of apple pie, not to mention countless beers. And still, Dean stays looking downright edible.

By comparison, you feel...fat. Like you've let yourself go.

You turn away from him to grab your well-worn sweatpants and an oversized shirt; you plan to change alone in the bathroom, but Dean grabs your arm.

"Who says you need to get dressed?" he says, popping his brows with a suggestive grin. He slips his arms around your waist, but your instinct is to shy away from his hold. You chuckle awkwardly and avoid his now curious gaze.

"Sorry, babe. Um...I'm wiped. I just want to get to bed," you say.

But Dean isn't fooled. His spidey sense is tingling, and his gut is almost never wrong.

His hand slides down your arm and grasps your hand, tugging you back into his arms. You utter a little gasp, but you ultimately smile at his familiar grin. There's a perceptive gleam in his eyes though.

"You know, seems like you've been pretty wiped lately," he says, raising a brow. "It's been a while since we, uh..."

He waggles his brows playfully, squeezing your hips. You want to smile, but you can't let yourself. You can't quite look at him either.

For Dean, it's another glaring red flag. His lips form a frown, and he dips his chin to find your eyes.

"Hey," he says. "What's goin' on? Talk to me."

His tone is so sincere, you have to blink against the sting of tears. Your lower lip wobbles, and Dean frowns in earnest. He presses a hand to your cheek and gets you to look at him with your watery eyes.

"Sweetheart, you gotta tell me what's wrong," he says, more gently, but serious.

Eventually, you're able to get it out. You can't bear the thought of him touching you, because lately, you can't even bear looking at yourself.

"I know I've been gaining weight, I just..." your voice breaks, and you gesture haphazardly at your body. "I'd get it if you're not really into this right now."

Dean's heart clenches. He's downright shocked at your confession, and more than a little disheartened. He presses a hand to your cheek and guides you to look at him.

"All right, hold up just one damn minute."

His calloused fingers gently brush away your tears, but his hands keep moving, slowly traveling down your body. They slide down your bare arms, skimming the sides of your breasts.

Your breath hitches. Your hand is still fisted over your beating heart, keeping your towel closed. His hands continue to move, molding to the curve of your waist over the fuzzy fabric.

"I'll admit, we've been pretty busy lately with everything we've got going on. But if you think that means I'm ever not into this delectable, sexy, voluptuous, goddess body you got rockin' the house?" he says, grinning that utterly Dean grin of his.

You bite your lip against a bubble of laughter. He's too fucking much sometimes.

Dean tugs you closer, until your hips fit snugly against his through his slacks. His tall, broad frame crowds you. His lips skim your cheek, then over your lips in a tease.

He squeezes the flesh of your hips, tender and sensuous.

Your heart flutters at the feeling.

"Mmm, I like you nice and soft," he murmurs against your cheek, close to your ear. "Feels that much better when I fuck you."

A small gasp gets trapped in your throat, while the gravel depths in his voice go straight to your pussy in a pulsing throb of warmth.

By the time he claims your lips in a devouring kiss, you're all too willing to let him peel your towel open, drop it to the floor, and guide you backwards onto the bed.

There he'll take his time, forging yet another mental map of every plush square inch of you.

Beau Arlen

Beau is a busy man. You understand that.

As Sheriff, his job demands a lot from him. He's also a father and has an ex-wife to contend with. (You knew that going in, and you've come to love Emily too.)

However, you can't help but start to take it personally when your sex life begins to suffer. He's often claimed being tired...but there's another suspicion that's been taking root in your mind, feeding your doubts and insecurities about how your boyfriend sees you, and about how you see yourself.

When you slip into bed at night, a kiss goodnight is all he gives you lately, before he's sighing deeply and closing his eyes, his soft snores soon filling the room.

One night, you try touching his shoulder, leaning in to kiss his bearded cheek. He hums at the pleasant feeling.

"You wanna...?" You trail the question in his ear, pressing more sweet kisses down his neck.

"Aw, sweetheart," he groans. "I'd like to, but I think I'd just smother you. I'm about to pass out."

You huff a laugh. You teasingly walk two fingers across his chest. "What if I make it easy for you?"

You shift onto your side. Resting a hand on his chest, you lean down to kiss him. He hums at the softness of it, but the more passion you try to imbue into each new kiss, Beau isn't as responsive as you would like. Eventually, you stop all together.

You frown, becoming disheartened. "You're not into this, I guess."

He opens his tired eyes, gazes up at you in apology. He opens his mouth to reply, but you beat him to it.

"You know it's been a month since we've had sex," you say.

Beau frowns, sliding a hand up your back. Only now does he notice, with appreciation, the familiar silky négligée you're wearing.

"Nah, that doesn't sound right," he says.

"Well, it is," you say. "I know you say you're tired, but I mean, you've had this job for as long as I've known you, Beau." Your eyes fall away from him. "So is it the job, or...is it me?"

Beau's brows furrow. "Now wait a minute."

The mere thought dredges up what's been plaguing your mind recently, and it has your throat tightening. Tears of embarrassment and upset well up in your eyes, no matter how much you try to push it down.

You push away from him and turn away, crossing your arms. You try not to look at yourself in what used to be your favorite lingerie.

You can't stand the extra weight you've put on, mostly in your hips and ass, but in your middle and arms too.

You've gone through your own stress at work this year, with less and less time to try and take care of yourself, along with making sure Emily gets to and from school, cooking for the three of you, going to PTA meetings when Carla can't make it (since Beau often can't), and every other proverbial hat you wear.

Beau follows you, sitting up and laying a hand on your back. "Sweetheart--"

"I know I've put on a few. Hell, more than a few," you admit, hastily wiping under your eyes. "God, I can't even look at myself right now, let alone have you--"

"Hey. You stop right there," Beau says, more firmly. He gets you to turn around with his hand on your shoulder. He doesn't like the way you're curled in on yourself, as if hiding your body from his gaze.

That, and the sight of your tears damn well break his heart.

He cups the side of your face gently and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, followed closely by your lips.

You don't want to melt, but you just can't help it. You cling to the front of his shirt and lean into his kiss, like you've been lost in the desert, and his lips hold the breath of life.

You almost don't realize it when his arms slip around your waist. He earns a surprised yelp from you when he gathers you close against his chest and rolls you underneath him.

You land against the pillows in a huff. You stare up at his playful smile, his green eyes glinting with amusement, with fondness, and also with desire as they roam over your breasts, barely contained by dark green satin and lace.

"I've been neglecting you, haven't I?" he says. His voice is a low, earthy drawl as his gaze rakes over you. His big hand runs down your side and over your hip, then down your bare thigh, squeezing soft, tender flesh. He slips that hand under the satin night gown.

His hand can't span your entire thigh, but it's not for lack of trying. Your heart beats a staccato rhythm at the way he looks at you, your breath hitching when his thumb dips between your legs, brushing against the damp, silky fabric of your panties.

"It's not because I don't find you sexy as hell. Believe me, darlin', I do," he says. "You're so fuckin' beautiful, especially when you're all laid out for me here."

And he means what he says. You know it by the hardness you feel pressing against your hip. You slip your fingers into his hair with a sigh.

He bows his head to press kisses along your neck; down and down, he noses at the thin strap of your night gown. His path of kisses continue, and he indulges himself by dipping his tongue between the valley of your breasts.

"Filling out this lacy little thing so nice," he murmurs into your skin.

Your upset has turned to abject relief, but you still have to blink away the remaining urge to cry.

You let out a slightly tremulous breath.

"Oh, yeah?" you ask.

Beau pauses. He pulls away, just so he can look up and meet your eyes. He still finds insecurity in yours, so he meets you with a kiss filled with heat and intent.

He's now wide awake. He plans to take his sweet time taking you apart, inch by inch.

In fact, in the back of his mind, he also plans to do better about letting his deputies help him out more at the precint so he can have a better work-life balance.

(Because going a whole damn month without the taste of you is "no bueno," in his words.)

Soldier Boy (Ben)

The man may not be very patient, or particularly perceptive, but he's not an idiot.

At least, not about sex.

He knows that you've been feigning tiredness, and generally avoiding his touch.

What's strange is that you haven't been avoiding him. You still cook for him, still share conversation with him, still insist on having him spoon you on the couch while catching him up on the past four decades of TV shows and movies.

But when he begins to sneak a hand under your oversized shirt (an old one of Ben's), caressing your hip, then dipping down to your softer stomach on the way to your panties, breaking your concentration from the movie as unease laces down your spine.

You grab his wrist on reflex, instead lacing your fingers together.

"What's the matter now?" he asks.

You look over your shoulder at him and find him frowning at you, a divot between his brows. You don't manage to hold his gaze for long.

"Sorry," you say quietly. "I'm just, um, tired."

Ben doesn't believe you, and he's direct when he calls you out on it.

Reluctant to put what you've been feeling into words, you pause the movie and leave the couch (and him) behind.

Ben is annoyed enough to follow you (and underneath, he hides an edge of concern). The conflict leads into the bedroom, where you're still unwilling to open up.

He finally stops you from walking away from him, pinning you against the dresser by your hips. He practically looms over you as he demands an answer. He knows you're hiding something — something that's had you reluctant to let him touch you.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" he says, a raw edge of warning in his tone. "What, are you fucking somebody else?"

Shock flashes in your eyes, making you angry. "What? No!"

"Well, you seem to be getting your fill somewhere, and it hasn't been from me--"

"Are you fucking serious? I'm not..." Your lips purse. You're actually hurt that he would hurl that accusation your way--and it couldn't be farther from the truth.

You tug your long shirt downwards and cross your arms, but it's more like you're hugging yourself, shielding your body away.

Ben's brows furrow a little bit more.

Eventually you get it out; you haven't been feeling up to being intimate because you're having a hard time even looking at yourself lately.

"I know I need to, um, get back in shape," you say, taking in a shaky breath to try and steady yourself. Your throat constricts, the beginnings of tears stinging your eyes. You want to look at anywhere but at Ben. "I just haven't had much time, with everything going on. But Annie gave me this guide on some different diets, like intermittent fasting, Keto--"

"Fasting," Ben intones. "What, you wanna fucking starve yourself? What the fuck is Keto?"

You sigh, barely resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"No, not starve myself. And Keto's just..." The idea of trying to explain the new diet craze to your boyfriend is too daunting a task to consider. "Never mind. The point is, I have a plan. My hips, my thighs, my ass--"

Ben squeezes your hips at the mention of them. He happens to like the softness.

"Yeah, you've got a little extra. So fucking what?" he says, his voice deep and exacting as his gaze roams over your body. "Just gives me more to hold onto when I'm fucking you."

You utter a shocked laugh. "Ben!"

He grins lazily, and he turns you this way and that, admiring you from all angles. In his eyes, he doesn't find a side he doesn't like. You can't help but blush hotly under his gaze.

"Sweetheart, do whatever you want if it makes you feel good. But you don't need to starve yourself." His hands move to your ass, squeezing a bit harder on the plush flesh.

A yelp escapes you; he's pressing into you from the front as well, and you feel him heavy and already half-hard against you. You grab onto his arms for stability as your breaths quicken.

His attitude kind of surprises you, even though it soothes the frayed, insecure part of your soul that wants to be as beautiful and attractive in his eyes as he is in yours.

Ben is literally a super soldier. You're actually kind of jealous. The man can drug and booze hard and eat whatever the hell he wants, but his super metabolism just seems to absorb it into his washboard abs.

(The more you think about it, the more you want to smack him.)

Nothing about him isn't hard and lean, muscle and strength.

Only his hands have a measure of gentleless when they're holding you like this.

"I've just got so many stretch marks now," you begin to complain, in an emotional whisper.

He snorts. "And? You think it's anything I haven't seen? I'm not afraid of a little cellulite either."

At that, your head tilts in consideration. Butcher's Granny Fucker remark comes to mind. You bite your lip against a smirk.

Ben crooks a curled finger under your chin. He guides you to meet his eyes, before he lures you into a lusty kiss.

It's somewhat rough because of his beard, but you still smile afterwards, leaning against him now.

"Ain't nothing about you that I can't handle," he adds, all smirking and cocky. To prove his point, he hooks those strong hands behind your thighs and lifts you onto the dresser.

You gasp and cling to his shoulders. From there, he makes quick work of ridding the oversized shirt from your body, revealing you to the cool air and his hot gaze.

You take his face in your hands and bring him in for an even steamier kiss, your heart lighter and trembling with anticipation.

You've held yourself from him long enough, Ben thinks, and he has every intention of devouring you right on your old dresser -- before you two even get to the bed.

AN: 😮‍💨 I feel like each of these could've been even longer with their own one-shot loll. I wrote the Midnight Espresso-verse for Dean, partially to explore what his relationship would be like with a plus-sized reader. 💖💖

Let me know which one you liked most this time!

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[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

A family thing

Written for the September pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog

Prompt: Anniversary

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Recovery; Disabled Eddie; POV Wayne Munson; Good uncle Wayne Munson; Implied sexual content; Domestic fluff; Found family

The sounds coming from the kitchen pull Wayne from his sleep much earlier than he'd like after a night shift. He lies awake for a while, cursing the government. Sure, they covered Eddie’s medical bills and bought them the new trailer, but would it have killed them to get one with thicker walls? He doesn't need to hear everything the boy gets up to. 

He's almost managed to drift off again when a clatter and a string of swear words make him shoot upright. He barrels out into the corridor that separates the living space from the bedrooms, almost colliding with Steve, who has just barged from Eddie’s room. His eyes are bleary, his hair a tousled mess. He's wearing boxers and a familiar guitar pick necklace, and that is it. 

“Ed?” Wayne asks, ignoring how Steve freezes at the sight of him. “What happened?” 

Eddie, on the kitchen floor in a heap of gangly limbs and fallen crutches, groans. “Wayne! You weren't supposed to wake up.” 

“Yeah, you're making that kinda hard,” Wayne mumbles, eyeing the shattered plates and spilled food on the ground. Toast and bacon and pancakes. There's something stuck in Eddie’s hair that looks like scrambled eggs. 

“What the hell?” Steve mutters, bridging the few steps into the kitchen and dropping into a crouch beside Eddie. Wayne stays where he is and watches. The way Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist to pull him up, careful not to hurt him. How Eddie slings bony arms over Steve’s shoulders, fingers grazing the scars on the boy's back. 

“Why didn't you ask me for help?” Steve asks. The rising sun basks the kitchen in oranges and golds, and for a second, Wayne is overcome by the thought that he mustn't blink, or they'll vanish. “I could've-” 

“What, on this highest of holidays?” Eddie asks, gesturing dramatically as Steve lowers him into one of the kitchen chairs. “Have you no respect for tradition? It is my responsibility and my duty to do this alone.” 

Steve blinks, then looks over at Wayne. 

“Okay? I don't get it.” 

Eddie cackles, gently pushing him aside to beckon Wayne closer. 

“Happy Uncle's Day!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne grumbles, bending at the hip so that Eddie can hug him, but there's an annoying sting behind his eyes. For a moment all he can think is how close he came to losing all of this.

“What the fuck is Uncle's Day?” Steve asks. He's eyeing the calendar on the wall like he's expecting it to spout an extra holiday. 

Eddie scoffs. “Only the most important holiday of the year? You need to stay up to date on-” 

“When Ed was nine years old,” Wayne explains, making his way over to the coffee pot, “he came home one day, seething and spitting venom, ‘cause his teacher had them making Father's Day cards.” 

“Why would I be making that asshole a fucking card?” Eddie grumbles. A pink blush has erupted from the collar of his shirt, but Wayne isn’t sure if it's because of the childhood story or because of the way Steve has pulled out the chair next to his and is finger-combing bits of egg from his curls. “The only thing I should've given him is a kick in-” 

“That's exactly what he said back then,” Wayne says, pouring himself a cup and leaning against the counter. “So we came up with an idea.” 

Steve frowns at Eddie. “Uncle's Day?” 

Eddie beams. “The anniversary of the day Wayne took me in.”

“Dunno if took in is the right term,” Wayne hums around his first sip. “You pretty much let yourself in and refused to leave.” 

Eddie waves him off, as if to say that he won’t argue about the technicalities. Steve’s eyes, meanwhile, have grown large. 

“Wait,” he says. “That's today? Why didn’t- … I’m sorry, I had no idea.” 

Eddie cocks his head at him, smile bright and incredibly fond. It makes a familiar warmth spread behind Wayne’s collarbone, one that has nothing at all to do with the coffee. “Why would you be sorry?” 

Steve gestures awkwardly at the mess that is the kitchen. “This is a family thing. If you’d told me, I’d have left you alone.” 

Eddie laughs. On the tabletop, his fingers find Steve’s. 

“Exactly,” he says. “This is a family thing. You're right where you belong. Ain't he, Wayne?” 

Wayne regards them - two men littered in battle scars, leaning into each other in the hazy morning light - and thinks of a hurt little boy who was too scared to let anyone in. 

“Can't argue with that,” he says. 

Steve's face lights up as if he'd just invited him to spend Christmas morning. 

“I- … thank you,” he stutters, and Wayne gets a feeling that he, too, is still learning to let people in. “Let me clean this up, and then I'll make us new-” 

“Stevie,” Eddie says, and hooks one finger into the necklace to pull him back. His next words are a murmur against the shell of Steve's ear, so low Wayne almost misses them. “Maybe get dressed first, darling.” 

The last thing Wayne sees of Steve as he flees into Eddie’s room is the blush coloring his neck and shoulders. 

“Do you have to tease him like that?” he asks, starting to gather the broken plates off the ground. 

Eddie shrugs. “He can take it. I think that's a basic requirement for joining this family?”  

His eyes find Wayne's, searching for a reaction. 

“Ed,” he says, picking up the crutches and handing them over. “My only requirement ever was for you to be happy. I think your boy has long proven himself in that regard. Now, run over to the Mayfields and ask if we can borrow some eggs, yeah?” 

As Eddie bolts out with a blush matching Steve's, Wayne settles into the newly vacated chair, allowing himself a long sip of coffee and a content sigh. 

It's gonna be a good Uncle's Day. 

[jasntodds]

can i request a jason fic 🥺 i was reading through the prompt list and saw two ("here's a spare key, so you don't have to keep coming through the window" and "i didn't know you could cook this good") and i thought they'd make a cute setup for a friends to lovers moment 🥺 sorry for not being around! i've been struggling with reading on my phone for long periods of time the last few months 😭 -guiltywaves

@guiltywaves omg hey!! I love friends to lovers so much dkjf but no no it's totally okay!! No worries!! I totally understand!! It happens to me all the time lmao I'm so sorry this took so long!! I wanted it to be perfect and make sure it wasn't super long!! I hope you like it!!

Maybe I'll do a part 2

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,045

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of injuries

masterlist | tag list | requests: open

Jason climbs through your window. A routine of sorts, really. After patrol, he comes by and always through your window. Sometimes he’s injured and lets you help him before you offer your couch to him. Sometimes he just stops by with a snack. But, he always comes in through the window.

Tonight is no different.

It’s after three when your window creaks open, Jason noting to himself to fix it for you. He crawls through your window, your apartment dark as it usually is when he comes by this late. He flips on the floor lamp to your living room before taking his helmet off and making his way to your kitchen to rest it on the table. He finds a note, your handwriting scribbled across the page containing Nightwing symbols at the corner.

Jason rolls his eyes but reads the note.

Leftovers in the fridge please eat

A smile tugs itself onto his lips before he pockets the note, folding it neatly beforehand. He’s quiet, reaching for the fridge where he finds the leftovers already in a bowl for him with a note that has his name on it, something that almost always makes him laugh. He's the only one you ever save food for.

This note has the Robin symbol.

He doesn’t think you even own anything with a Red Hood symbol and a very large part of him knows it’s because you do it to fuck with him.

It works every time.

He grabs the bowl, pulling the plastic wrap from it before he pops it in the microwave. He grabs a fork from the drawer and leans himself against the counter with hooded eyes, sleep tugging at his chest and bones. Patrol wasn't too bad tonight, that's not really it. He's standing in your kitchen and it's comfortable here. He's allowed to breathe with ease in your apartment and sometimes, that alone can make him crave sleep. The white noise of the microwave is only contributing to the heaviness of his eyes until it’s suddenly interrupted.

“Knew you’d be hungry.” Your voice tugs Jason from his almost sleep.

You look tired.

You sound tired.

“Thank you.” Jason’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of red as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Just gonna eat and head out.”

“You can stay.” You roll your shoulders.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “‘M fine.” He gives you this toothy grin as some sort of proof he isn’t injured tonight though you’ve already pieced that together with him heating up his food.

“It’s late. You’re just gonna be more tired after you eat, Jay. It’s not like you don’t stay half the time anyway.” You roll your eyes at him before you disappear down the hall.

The microwave dings and it sends Jason quickly reaching for the handle to get it to stop. The noise is so jarring in your quiet apartment it sounds like his ears might bleed. The bowl is hot on his fingertips as he grabs it, quickly stirring before he puts it back in for a bit more time.

“I got you something.” You state as you reemerge from the hallway.

Jason’s brow quirks up. “What?” He let out a half-scoff half-chuckle.

The microwave barely gets a ding off before Jason grabs it and removes his bowl. He places it on the counter before you approach him. Jason faces you, eyeing you carefully before he sticks his fork into the pile of pasta.

“Here’s a spare key.” You stick out your hand and open your palm, revealing a painted red key. It matches his helmet. “So you don’t have to keep coming through the window.”

Jason thinks he might have a panic attack.

He’s comfortable around you. You’re his best friend. You’ve been friends for years, long before Red Hood. You know everything there is to know about him. It’s why he’s so comfortable walking into your apartment and grabbing his food. It’s why he can get some sleep when he’s here. But, having a key feels serious. It feels like a large responsibility. It feels like a commitment to something he’s not sure he knows what to do with.

He's staring at your palm like the key might try to bite and you have to hold your breath. There's always a chance he says no and it really shouldn't be a big deal because he's your best friend but you hold your breath anyway. You tell yourself it's just a key because Jason Todd deserves to feel welcomed somewhere at all times and that somewhere is here.

“Jay, you’re here all the time.” You tell him before you grab his hand and put the key in it. “Just use the damn key. And whenever you want.” You shrug. “I know sometimes you just don’t want to be alone so you can just come over whenever. I don’t know. You’re just always welcome.” You glance to the key in his hand and then up to him, hoping he takes it.

“I can’t do that.” Jason shakes his head, still holding out the palm of his hand.

“And why not?” You challenge.

Jaosn’s different than he was when you were kids. He’s guarded, cautious, you think he’s scared. When he was a kid, he was a little fearless and a little reckless. It wasn’t anything too crazy but a little reckless. He was open and welcoming. He was still cautious but it was more that caution just came from needing to survive from one day to the next. Jason’s caution today makes him look over his shoulder, look at every single person near him to see if they have a weapon. It makes him hide a gun under your couch and in one of your cabinets. He has a stash of food in his apartment he thinks you don’t know about. He’s different now than he was. So, you offer patience while still testing him. He doesn’t need to be different with you.

“Not trying to impose.” Jason tries to play off his own fears. “The window’s fine.” He tries to deflect. “It’s not even a bother anyway and—“

You let out a sigh cutting him off. “You’re not imposing if I’m inviting you which I am. The window’s fine until someone spots you and wants to know what the fuck is going on. The door is right here.” You point over your shoulder to the door. “Just take the key and use it.” You offer him a soft smile. "I want you here." You clarify.

Maybe it’s not the key itself that makes Jason want to run through a window. It’s the implication of what a key could lead to. And what if you ask for it back?

What if you change your mind?

“I painted it to match your helmet.” Your eyes soften, a hint of innocence behind them.

Jason's eyes go to the table, spotting his helmet and his chest feels like it’s on fire. Most of the stationary you own has to do with the bats. You have random collectibles of theirs, too which may have actually been gifted to you but you have them regardless. But the key to your apartment is Red Hood red.

You think you see a smile forming.

“Fine.” He caves, curling his fingers around the key before stuffing it deep into his pocket. “‘M gonna thank you for it then.”

“Okay, Jay.” You shine, relieved he took it.

“Can I eat now?” He points to his bowl of food that's no longer steaming.

“Yes, yes you can.” You chime.

Jason picks up his bowl, leaning his lower back against your counter before he twirls the pasta around the fork. You sit in front of him on your table just watching him. He’s your best friend but it’s hard not to notice how the armor compliments his muscle. It’s hard not to notice how pretty he is even in the low light of your apartment. You think he’s always been pretty but since reconnecting, you can’t help but think he’s stunning and tall and big. Your mind wanders to his hands, the way he holds the fork with large but delicate fingers as if he could break the metal with ease. You think how it would feel to hold his hand in yours, knowing Jason’s always radiated heat. You think how his palms are probably calloused and how they’d feel against your skin and—

Nope.

You shake your head of your own thoughts. He’s your friend and you’re just extra tired and touch-starved lately.

“How was patrol?” You ask with ease, kicking your feet in front of you, just missing his legs.

He shrugs. “Not too bad.” He answers. “Stopped a few robberies.” He states as he twirls his fork around his pasta.

“You look tired.”

He hums softly before taking his first bite, not even realizing how hungry he was until now.

“You look tired.” Jason quips back with the nod of his head towards you.

“That’s because it’s four in the morning.” You laugh softly. “Most people are tired at this time.” You widen your eyes at him to tease him.

"You can go back to bed, don't have to watch me eat." Jason widens his eyes back at you in response.

"No, that's okay." You smile back at him, not wanting to go back to bed when you could be out here with him.

“You know,” Jason starts as he points his fork at you. “Gotta get you different stationary. Tired of your Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin bullshit.” He changes subject, a little relieved you want to stay up a little bit with him. He feels guilty you're up with him but he does really enjoy your company.

“Aww,” You give him a pout. “But don’t you just love Dick and Damian and Tim?”

Jason blinks at you a few times as he keeps a straight face before taking another bite.

You let out a laugh and Jason thinks your laugh could cure him of all of his sadness.

“They’re your brothers.” You giggle.

“Exactly.” Jason answers.

“I could have painted your key Nightwing blue or the Robin colors.” You tease him with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t pick Spoiler or Orphan?” Jason says it more sarcastically than anything else.

“No, you like Steph and Cass.” You laugh.

“Swear, if I show up to Batman shit, I’m out.” Jason laughs back.

You make a mental note to pick up a Batman mug tomorrow just to fuck with him.

“Of course not.” You scoff but Jason knows he's given you the bad idea.

Jason laughs softly before taking another bite. “Go to bed.”

You let out a sigh before you hop down, noticing Jason is almost done eating anyway. "Pillow and blanket are already on the couch for you."

Jason glances to the couch, seeing a pale blue blanket peaking out from the arm of the couch.

"Thank you." Jason offers you a sincere but small smile. "Goodnight."

“Goodnight, Jay.” You smile softly before heading back to your room.

The next morning, you’re awakened by the smell of something cooking in your kitchen. For a few seconds, you think you’re either dreaming or hallucinating. But the longer you lay in bed, the more you become positive there’s definitely food being made.

It smells a little sweet and warm. It actually smells warm. And yet, it’s almost completely silent in your apartment. You figure it’s Jason because Jason can cook but you have no clue how he manages to be so quiet about everything he does. Sure, it’s his training and his life depends on it, but every time you try to cook anything, you drop at least one pan onto the floor and utensils usually go flying somewhere. You feel bad for you downstairs neighbors.

You grab your phone from the charger, pocketing it before you head out to the kitchen, still wiping sleep from your eyes. The smell grows stronger and you finally figure out it’s your favorite breakfast food. A smile pokes at your lips because, in all your years of friendship, you and Jason have only done breakfast a handful of times but he remembers anyway.

He’s attentive. That’s also something that comes with his training because his life depends on it. But, you knew him before Rd Hood. Before Robin and Batman. Jason Todd has always been attentive and you don’t think it’s something about living on the streets. It’s something that’s embedded into his DNA, pay attention to small things. Maybe that’s because of his mom, his overall childhood of having to take care of her but maybe it’s also just him.

“Morning.” You greet as you stretch your arms over your head, bending your back back a bit.

“G’morning.” Jason greets as he turns around from the stove.

He sounds well-rested.

He looks well-rested for once.

“You’re making breakfast?” You question as you walk over to your coffee maker, an empty cup already ready sitting there for you.

“Told ya I’d pay you back.” Jason states as he continues cooking.

“You really know the way to my heart.” You joke as you get your coffee going. “Always food.”

You watch Jason continue to cook and you think you could probably be mesmerized by everything he does. He's not really doing anything special but it seems that way because it's him. He could trip over a rock and fall into a lake and you'd still be mesmerized.

"Hello?" Jason calls, waving a hand in front of your face. Your eyes snap up to his as you feel your cheeks starting to burn. "I asked how you slept." Jason chuckles as he starts to plate the food for the both of you. "You alright?"

You shake your head, almost fumbling for words. "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out." You clear your throat before you start to pour your cup of coffee. "Good, to answer your question." You let out a breath with the roll of your shoulders. "You?" You ask with a soft smile before you make your way to your spot at the table.

Jason always tends to sleep better here. Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable or the biggest but he still feels like he gets real sleep whenever he’s here. He could sleep a few hours and still be more rested than had he just slept at his place.

Jason doesn’t mind being alone, it’s always a bit safer if not for him then for the people around him but being alone gets pretty lonely. He doesn’t have to feel alone here. You’re here and he thinks he’d never be lonely again if you were always around.

“Good.” Jason answers, not willing to elaborate on his thoughts. “Your breakfast is served, princess.” Jason smirks at you with his quip as he sets the plate down in front of you.

“Ass.” You retort with the roll of your eyes just as Jason goes to take the plate back. Your hand grips his wrist. Your hand is no match for him, it’s tiny compared to him and his strength alone is enough but he stops anyway. “No, no, I’ll take this thank you.” You push his hand away and guard your food.

He laughs with the shake of his head and you hope the walls are absorbing the sound. Jason stays at your apartment a few days a week but he’s never here when you wake up. The blanket is always folded on the arm of the couch with the pillow placed perfectly on top. There’s always some sort of note thanking you for letting him crash. Sometimes, if you sleep in because work sucked or you're sick, he picks up some of your favorite snacks and takeout, leaving it in the fridge for you for when you wake up. But, he’s never here.

You find yourself thinking you could get used to this though. His laugh in the early morning and him looking so comfortable.

His hair is all tousled from sleeping. He looks a little disheveled. You see him disheveled all the time because he always has helmet hair and he’s always getting himself into trouble. It kind of comes tih with territory, you think. But, today, it’s just because he slept here. He looks disheveled because his hair is messy and he’s comfortable. He looks comfortable and warm and you’d go as far as to say he looks beautiful.

You hope he chooses to stay more.

“Okay, I didn't know you could cook this good.” You states after taking a few bites, genuinely surprised. Is there anything Jason Todd is bad at?

A rosey shade of pink dusts over his cheeks as he shrugs. “What? Thought I only eat pasta and whatever else you managed to save me?” He quips, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through his ribcage.

“Well…yes.” You let out a laugh while Jason offers you his fake glare.

“Like to cook sometimes, got good at it.” Jason shrugs a shoulder with his minimal explanation.

“Well, now you have to cook more.” You shrug easily as you offer him a grin.

“I have to?” Jason raises a brow at you, taunting you to rethink your words.

You don’t.

“Yes. I said so.” You laugh back at him.

“Not sure I want to now.” Jason shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

“Awww, pretty please, Jay.” You give him a pout and not even a single ounce of him actually believes he’d ever be able to say no to you about anything.

“What’d ya want for dinner?” Jason asks before he goes back to his food.

“Wait, really?” You beam and Jason glances back to you.

There’s always this sort of pull in his chest when things feel good, like he’s undeserving and he needs to wait for the other foot to drop. It feels like this now. He feels comfortable here. He’s happy here with you. You’re his favorite person and you're always the person he wants to talk to you about a new book he read or something insane one of the bats did. You’re the first person, the only person, he goes to when he’s been hurt on patrol. Jason swears you’re his best friend despite the beating and rumbling through his ribcage.

“Unless you’re bored of--”

“I’m never bored of you.” You cut him off immediately. “Okay, I’ll think of something and I can help.” You beam back at him with excitement before going back to your food.

A smile tugs at the corner of Jason’s lips and despite the worrying and fear of this whole thing blowing up in his face, he finds himself thinking he could get used to mornings with you, just like this.

[missaengg]

Beg For Me

Day 19 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Love and Deepspace | Rafayel x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, begging, oral sex, orgasm denial, restraints/light bondage, dom reader, sub Rafayel Prompts: Begging | “I thought this is what you wanted?” A/N: Didn't think I'd get around to this today, but I somehow managed to pull this out of my ass. Warning, this has not been edited, apologies for any errors! ao3 link here.

Rafayel was sinfully groaning, a delectable red flush glowing on his soft, supple cheeks. He trembled, the tongue running up his shaft having him pull at the Evol-blocking handcuffs restraining him to the headboard of his plush, luxurious bed.

“Cutie, I need to… I need to…” He moaned pathetically, as you swirled your tongue on just the tip of his swollen cock. “Let me finish inside of you.”

You sucked up, and he slipped out of your mouth with a resounding ‘pop’. “You forgot the magic word,” you tutted, wrinkles forming between your brows. 

“Please… please let me finish inside of you.”

The ache he felt was clear in the breathy timbre of his whining mewl. Pursing your lips, you feigned being deep in thought, the vision of Rafayel splayed on his bed just too enticing to stop.

“But darling… I thought this is what you wanted?” 

This was true. Just last week, Rafayel had discovered that your handcuffs blocked the wearer’s Evol, and he had insisted that you use it sometime in bed with him, though you were sure he meant using it on you, not on him.

“On you! Not–” Rafayel’s breath hitched as you took him in your mouth again. “Not to torture… hah… torture me!”

You gave his tiny slit a sultry lick, tasting the hint of his salty pre-cum still leaking despite your endless teasing. “Hm… naughty.”

“Baby… baby, please, it’s been like an hour…” Rafayel looked at you imploringly, his puppy dog, purple eyes pleading with you to end his agonizing frustration. “Please… cutie… I’ll do anything, anything��� just a taste.”

You wickedly grinned, nibbling up his shaft while your hand rubbed circles on his raw, overstimulated tip. “Anything?”

“Anything!” A shudder ran through Rafayel’s body when he felt your teeth very lightly grazing where he was especially tender. “Let me fuck you, please.”

You sank your teeth into him, just enough to send a jolt of electrifying pain up his back. “Language, Raf.”

Rafayel growled, the full extent of his pent-up frustration rumbling through his throat, a feral, desperate demonstration of his displeasure. He violently bucked his hips into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag.

You sat back on your heels, the sudden departure of your mouth leaving Rafayel to whimper in agony. You tsked, slowly shaking your head back and forth.

“Bad, bad boy.” 

With a dangerous, cheeky, taunting smile, you pulled down your underwear, making sure you trailed your fingers along your legs as you removed the flimsy piece of fabric, delighting in the way Rafayel’s eyes bulged out of their sockets as your glistening cunt came into view.

“Yes… yes, cutie, just a… a taste,” Rafayel croaked, practically drooling as his eyes took in the scrumptious meal before him.

“Just a taste,” you purred, and sunk down onto his twitching cock, all the way down until he was fully buried within your folds. “You like that?”

Rafayel eagerly nodded, closing his eyes and groaning as your walls enveloped him in their warm embrace. “Yes, baby… ngh… you feel, feel so good.”

“Hm… it’s too bad I have to punish you for choking me with your filthy cock.”

You had to suppress the rising giggle tickling your throat, the sight of Rafayel’s eyes snapping open in fear too adorable.

“No, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it,” Rafayel babbled. “Please don’t punish me, I’ll do anything, anything you want, just please don’t torture me anymore.”

With a hum, you reached for your phone on the nightstand and sat upright, keeping Rafayel pinned between your legs.

“Baby… cutie…” Rafayel’s cock twitched furiously.

You ignored him, focusing only on the phone in your hand.

“Babyyyyy, you’re so mean.”

You shook your head, giving him that look, the one where you meant business, quieting Rafayel’s protests to a feeble whimper.

“No, darling. I want you to lay there and think about what you did, and maybe, maybe I’ll let you play with me.”

It took everything in you not to burst out laughing at the absolutely devastated look that crossed Rafayel’s face.

[ladyymiisa]

RISE AND SHINE!

summary: mornings with shouta might be a challenge, but you still love him unconditionally, even when he's being a total pain.

tags: aizawa shouta x fem!reader, fluff, shouta is an insufferable little shit in this so i’m sorry if it seems a bit ooc

author’s note: misa writing about someone who’s not hawks? absolutely crazy. anyway, eat up my children!! (i wish he would eat me instead)

mornings with shouta can go one of two ways:

1. you wake up first, only to be sweetly persuaded into remaining in bed with him for another hour or so. this usually happens on the weekends.

2. you wake up first and are confronted with the formidable task of ensuring that your boyfriend gets out of bed on time to attend to his responsibilities as both a pro hero and a teacher.

today happens to be the second scenario.

“come on, shouta,” you urge, attempting to pull the blanket from his body, only to succeed in moving it a mere millimeter from his grasp. even freshly awake, his grip remains unyielding—a trait whose logic you’ll never quite comprehend.

with a sigh of frustration, you give the blanket another tug, this time applying more force. “your alarm has rung three times already. how much longer do you intend to lounge around?” you ask, your annoyance evident.

shouta remains silent and you find yourself sighing once again.

this won’t do. he should have been out the door by now, and you’re pretty sure nezu will give him another reprimand for being late once again. there’s only so much he’ll let slide.

with your lips pressed together, you silently watch shouta. you observe the steady rise and fall of his chest as he dozes off peacefully, without a care in the world. a few unruly strands of hair have fallen across his eyes, partially obscuring his face from view. perfect.

it's time to resort to plan b.

with your plan set in motion, you roll your shoulders, savoring the satisfying pops of your joints, then position yourself, ready for action. without an ounce of hesitation, you allow your body to collapse onto his like a ragdoll, face landing straight against his bare chest. this action finally elicits a response from shouta.

he grunts in disapproval, partly due to the unexpected impact of your body landing atop his own without warning, but makes no effort to push you away. instead, he remains there, defeated and motionless.

"get off." he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.

"only if you get up." you retort.

you feel the low rumble in his chest as he grumbles once more. a few seconds of silence pass, and just as you begin to think you might have won, his arms unexpectedly wrap around you, securing you in place.

this prompts you to gasp in offence and struggle against his grip, but your efforts are in vain. shouta has no intention of letting you go so easily, not when the warmth of your body nearly lulls him back into slumber. you let out a whine, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

the fucking bastard is smirking triumphantly.

with a resigned sigh, you allow your head to fall against his chest once more. something tells you that shouta won’t be the only one getting an earful from nezu today.

[vbecker10]

I found the prompt “this isn’t a double date, we’re just third and fourth wheeling” and thought it would be perfect for a Loki/reader to be the third and fourth wheel-maybe another couple is trying to set them up and both Loki and reader are alllllllll the way in denial. Would love fluff, idiots to lovers, and female reader character if possible. Thanks so much! 💚

This isn't a Double Date... Right?

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N), Bucky x Natasha

Summary: Natasha has been taking her role as your best friend and personal match maker way too seriously lately, setting you up on dozens of awful blind dates. After finally convincing her to stop, you resume your place as the official third wheel on Natasha and Bucky's date night. Or at least that's what you thought the plan was until you find out Bucky invited Loki to go out with you all and now he's the fourth wheel... because this isn't a double date, right?

A/N: I'm really, really sorry this took so long! I absolutely love this idea, thank you so much for sending this request! I hope you like it! 💚

Also... this is way longer than I thought it was going to be but I just can't seem to finish multi-part fics lately so I didn't want to risk only writing half of it lol

"I hate when you two are being cute," you roll your eyes as you walk into Natasha's apartment. You didn't bother to knock, you never do on blind date nights. The spy and her super soldier boyfriend know your routine by heart and are not at all surprised to see you.

Nat has been setting you up on blind dates for the last four months and each time you come straight to her apartment after. You can't tell who is more excited to see you, Nat because she is a surprisingly hopeless romantic and desperately wants to help her best friend find her perfect match or Bucky because he always has a snack ready to hear about how this date was so much worse than your last one.

Bucky's arms are wrapped around Natasha's waist as she cuts up fruit, his chest pressed against her back. "Hello to you too, grumpy," Nat laughs, shaking her head lightly when you close the door and take off your coat.

"I'm serious, it's gross," you fight back a smile as Bucky steals a piece of strawberry from the cut pile to eat.

"Those aren't for you," she swats his metal hand away before he takes another piece and he chuckles. While she's distracted with Bucky, you reach over the counter, taking a few pieces of fruit and popping them in your mouth. "You're as bad as he is," Nat laughs, throwing the top of a strawberry at you with expert precision. You fail to block the small piece of fruit and wipe your cheek as you bend down to pick it up off the floor.

Resting his chin on Natasha's shoulder he smirks at you, "I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess the date didn't go well... as usual."

"I'm going to die alone," you inform the couple, sitting at the island across from them. You drop your head dramatically on the counter and a laugh escapes Bucky.

"No you won't," he says with less sarcasm then you expect. You lift your head slightly to look at him and he smiles, "You're going to tag along with Nat and me until you die."

You lower your head back to the counter heavily with a loud sigh.

"Be nice," she looks up and scolds him.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Bucky tries to defend his comment. "I just meant cause she always goes out with us when we go on dates anyway."

"Not making me feel better," you groan without lifting your head.

"You are not going to die alone," Nat finishes dicing the fruit and adds it to the blender. "I'm going to find you someone, I haven't given up yet."

You sit up, "Well, I'm giving up. Look Nat, you're an amazing friend and a completely bad ass spy and I love you to death but you are horrible at this whole match making thing."

"Just let me try one more time," she reaches across the counter and grabs your hand. "There's a new guy in-"

You cut her off, "Nat, I'm serious. You set me up with one more weirdo and I'm going to make sure the next mission I assign you to is in the Bermuda Triangle."

You walk quickly down the street, holding your thin jacket closed against the wind as the museum finally comes into view. Nat waves excitedly when she sees you, Bucky's metal arms possessively around her waist as always.

"Sorry, the last debrief took way longer than it should have. Lang was giving the overview of his mission yesterday in ridiculously specific detail," you hug Nat then Bucky. Laughing, you add, "He'd probably still be going on and on if Loki hadn't very strongly suggested he learn to summarize his thoughts before sharing them with everyone."

"Well I'm glad you were able to escape," Nat smiles and links arms with you, turning to walk up the steps.

"Hold up, we're still waiting on someone," Bucky says, putting his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Who?" you raise an eyebrow and look suspiciously at Natasha. "You agreed, no more blind dates and you know I can't stand blind double dates, they're even worse."

She shrugs, "I didn't do anything, I have no idea what he's talking about. Who'd you invite Bucky?"

"Steve?" you guess.

"Oh, there he is," Bucky doesn't exactly answer your question as he looks past you down the street at the mystery person. You and Nat turn to see who he's looking at and your eyes widen in surprise. Loki looks left then right before quickly crossing the street against the light.

As he gets closer you can't help but think he looks amazing as always. He's wearing black dress pants, black dress shirt with the top two buttons open and a dark green pea coat which flows open around him as he walks. Loki raises his hand to wave at Bucky and you can see the surprise in his eyes when he spots you and Nat on the first few steps of the museum. Clearly he wasn't expecting to see anyone other than Bucky which is good, you think, that means this definitely isn't a surprise double date.

Loki smiles as he walks over to the three of you. "Sorry I'm late," he apologies, you and Nat rejoin Bucky on the sidewalk.

"Don't worry about it. I should be thanking you for getting me out of that debrief in the first place," you tell him.

He chuckles, "I did it for purely selfish reasons I assure you but I'm glad it worked out for you. I hadn't realize you and Natasha would be here as well."

"Hopefully that's not a bad thing," you smile, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as he takes a step closer to you. Bucky moves to put his arm around Natasha's waist but you barely notice. You're too busy trying to decide if this is the longest conversation you've ever had with the incredibly hot Asgardian outside of what you needed to discuss for work.

He smiles, his eyes focusing only on you, "I'm not disappointed."

"Good," you rub your hands together from the cold then joke, "We needed a fourth wheel. I'm a bit tired of being an awkward tricycle all the time."

Loki gives you a confused look but when Nat laughs he nods, understanding your meaning. "I know how you feel, I seem to be the third person in Thor and Jane's relationship quite a bit lately. I imagine they're excited to have a night out without me for a change."

"Well their loss is our gain, right?" you reply, your mouth moving faster than your brain. Loki smirks at you and you blow lightly into your hands, looking down in an attempt to pass off your blush for being cold.

When you look down, you miss the wink Bucky gives Natasha and her nodding in approval of his secret plan. "Now, can we please go in?" Nat asks, "It really is way too cold to keep standing out here."

Once inside, you immediately go to the hall to your right, wanting to see the new exhibit and Loki follows you. The two of you move to the first painting in the almost completely empty hall, unaware that Bucky and Nat haven't joined you. You begin to read the small metal information card next to the painting to yourself and Loki leans closer to read over your shoulder. Smiling when you feel him close, you read the rest of the brief description outloud as his eyes drift up to the large oil painting. When you finish, your attention shifts to the painting, enjoying the colors the artist used.

"Would you be interested in a fairly random fact about this piece of art?" Loki asks and you look up at him. You expect to see his signature smirk but instead he seems genuinely unsure of whether you're curious or not as he waits with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh, absolutely," you nod excitedly. "I honestly love random facts and weird trivia. Let's hear it."

He smiles, his posture becoming more relaxed as he tells you what he read about the painting years ago. You listen to him as you both move to the next painting where you once again you read the small card to Loki. After you finish, he describes the method the artist used to mix his paints to get all those different color variations.

At the third painting it's finally your turn to tell Loki something you learned about the painting. Unlike the prince's information which comes from art history books, your fact comes from someone you follow on TikTok but you aren't about to tell him that. When he doesn't respond right away, you immediately get a sinking feeling, filling with worry that you are actually wrong and now he thinks you're an idiot.

After a moment, he smiles. "I've never heard that before but it makes sense." You relax, walking to the next painting as Loki adds, "I have to tell you how nice it is to talk to someone who actually wants to have a conversion with me, especially about something like art. I honestly feel like most of the time, Thor invites me to go out with him and Jane because he thinks if he doesn't, I will just sit in my apartment alone all night."

"Would you?" you ask.

"Most likely yes, I don't enjoy going out alone," he answers. "But I'm perfectly fine sitting in my apartment and reading all night. That was my plan for tonight until I ran into Barnes right before our last meeting."

"So as far as you know then, this isn't a double date right?" you ask. "Nat's been setting me up a lot lately."

He shakes his head, "I honestly had no idea you or Natasha were going to be here. To be fair though, I didn't ask. Barnes said he had an extra ticket to the museum for tonight and told me to meet him here after work. I did think it was a little strange since we've never spent time together outside of missions." He chuckles lightly, "I just figured Thor told him to take me out so he could spend time with Jane."

"Oh, like it's Bucky's turn to babysit you?" you can't help but laugh.

He nods, "Something like that, yes."

You walk to the next painting, quickly falling into a comfortable pattern. You read the card that is placed next to the painting and then either you or Loki shares a fact you've learned about the artist, the subject matter or the style. You try to focus on the beautiful art in front of you but it's hard not to notice how Loki seems to stand a bit closer to you each time you move to a new paniting.

At the last painting in the wing, the back of his hand brushes against yours and you find yourself fighting the urge to thread your fingers between his as you listen to him tell you about the artist's failed attempt at making sculptures. You laugh, envisioning the clay collapsing in a heap around the artist the way Loki describes it.

"Would you like to see the next hall or do you need to find Natasha first?" he asks when you've contained your laughter.

Looking around, you realize for the first time that they aren't in this hall. You assumed they followed you but honestly you were so distracted by Loki you forgot to even check. He smiles, waiting patiently for an answer. "I'm sure they're fine without us," you tell him.

"I agree," he holds out his arm and you take it, blushing as he leads you to the next hall.

You giggle, covering your mouth as you look up at the first painting in the next hall. "Care to explain what's so funny darling?" he asks, your giggles cut short by the sudden use of the nickname.

"I just-" you clear your throat. "No, it's going to sound stupid."

"Tell me anyways," he insists, moving closer to you so his hand brushes against yours.

"Well..." you point to the couple sitting on the bench facing the lake with their arms around each other. "There's Nat and Bucky..." then you point to the woman sitting on the bench next to them. She's eating a sandwich that she very obviously stole from the couples picnic basket while they were distracted with each other, "There's me."

He laughs, "Ah yes, I see it!" You hit his arm playfully and he smirks, "You are much prettier then she is though."

Your face heats up and you barely manage to mumble, "Thanks," in response as Loki walks to the second painting, turning to make sure you follow.

Loki and you walk down the steps of the museum to meet Nat and Bucky about half an hour later. "I see the double date's going well," Nat jokes. "You two snuck off pretty quick," she winks at you.

"We didn't sneak off," you roll your eyes. "And we've already established that this isn't a double date, cause you said you weren't setting me up with people anymore."

"Fine, fine," she says as Bucky puts his hand on her lower back and you all start walking down the street.

"But, this is definitely the best 'not a double date' I've been on ever," you add and she smiles at you over her shoulder. You walk another block and shiver as you wait for the light to change, wishing you wore a warmer coat.

"Cold?" Loki asks, a hint of concern in his voice.

You fold your arms around your body tighter, nodding quickly. "I guess l grabbed the wrong jacket when I was leaving. I didn't think it was going to get this cold out."

"Here," he unbuttons his coat and you shake your head no. "Frost giants don't get cold," he insists as he takes his coat off. "I bought it cause I liked it, not because I need it."

"Well, it does look really good on you," you smile up at him as he puts it over your shoulders.

He smiles when you slip your arms into the sleeves. "I actually think it looks much better on you." You can barely keep from giggling as the blush creeps up your cheeks.

You laugh as you sit next to Loki at the restaurant, your knees touching lightly under the table when he leans closer to you. "Wait, do you ever sit between them when you see a movie?" you ask.

"I hate when you do that," Bucky says from across the table, his contribution to the conversation ignored by both you and Loki.

"No!" Loki laughs loudly, putting down his nearly empty drink as he looks at you. "Y/N, I must say, you truly are an evil genius. I'm absolutely doing that to Thor and Jane next time."

"Or you two could just go to a movie together," Nat suggests with a shrug. "You know, without other people? Like on a real date."

You smile at the thought of spending more time alone with Loki but before either of you can respond, the waitress walks over to your table with the bill. "I've got this," Loki says as he opens his wallet without looking at the bill sitting in front of him.

Bucky shakes his head, "You don't need to do that."

You joke, "Yeah, since this isn't a double date we should just split it." You reach for your bag but Loki waves over the waitress and hands her his credit card.

"Too late," he smiles when she walks away.

He leans back in his seat, his arm settling on the back of your chair. You shift a little closer to him and are pleasantly surprised when he moves his arm to rest across your shoulder. You look up to catch Nat smirking at you as Loki's fingertips trace circles on your upper arm slowly while he finishes his drink.

A few minutes later, the waitress hands Loki his card and the receipt. He takes his arm off of you to put the card back in his wallet and you grab his wrist lightly to stop him. "Wait, is that Tony's card?" you look at him in surprise.

He turns the card over as if he's never seen it before, "Oh, would you look at that?"

You laugh, "Loki!"

"What?" he grins as he puts it away. "Well, I think she deserves a pretty large tip, don't you?" He fills out the receipt and signs the bottom while Nat shakes her head but can't hide her smile.

"He's been looking for that for like a week," Nat says with an eye roll.

"That makes sense," he smirks as he gets up. "I needed to pick up a new series from the bookstore so I... borrowed it."

"Oh, what books did you get?" you ask as you slip on Loki's coat, you look up to catch him watching you with a smile.

"Don't encourage him," Bucky gets up and shrugs on his coat. "And borrowing it means you plan on returning it," he informs Loki.

"I'm going to," Loki responds and opens the door for everyone. "When I've finished using it."

You walk out first and wait for the others, "Do you think Tony would mind if we used it to get some ice cream?"

"I think I'll pass, I'm actually kind of tired," Bucky puts his hands in his pockets.

"Oh I forgot," you joke, "It's past your bedtime old man."

Nat laughs as Bucky folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not an old man," he says in a grumpy tone. "And if I was, that means your date is ancient."

"Okay, first off, this is not a double date and secondly... wait, how old are you?" you look up at Loki.

"1,054," he answers, chuckling lightly when your eyes widen. "But I'll live to be around 5,000 so technically I'm still quite young. Barnes however is older than the age an average human would live to."

Nat puts her arms around Bucky and kisses his cheek, "I'm gonna take my fossil home. You two enjoy ice cream in this freezing weather."

"I hate all of you," Bucky mumbles, turning with Nat to walk down the street.

"No you don't, you're just cranky cause you're tired," you giggle but your breath catches when Loki puts his arm around your waist.

"Ready for dessert?" he smiles and leads you in the opposite direction.

Your hand brushes against Loki's as you cross the street and he intertwines his fingers with yours. You smile and squeeze his hand lightly, continuing down the street in comfortable silence until you reach the Tower. The smiles vanishes from your face when he lets go of your hand but you lean into him when he puts his arm around your waist once inside the lobby.

He pushes the button for the elevator and says, "Thank you Y/N, this is the most fun I've had in months."

"I had a great time too, Loki. Shame it wasn't a double date, right?" you ask when the doors open and you both step inside.

He nods, "It would have been a perfect double date. But since it wasn't, can I take you out on a real date tomorrow night?"

You giggle, "Of course but not a double date."

"Just us," he agrees. After a moment he adds, "I'll admit, I'm looking forward to the end of our first date."

"How come?" you ask a bit confused.

He turns to face you, "Because I would really like to kiss you but I know on Midgard it's typical to wait until the end of a first date."

You look at him in disbelief but the elevator ding distracts you. You both get out and walk down the hall towards your room. "You know... we could just call tonight a date since it pretty much was one," you say as his fingers squeeze yours gently. "The museum, dinner, ice cream, lots of talking and laughing and-"

Loki cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours as you stand outside your apartment. You close your eyes and kiss him back, your hands moving to his lower back as he cups your cheek. When he pulls back he smiles and you say, "I'm assuming you agree tonight was a date then?"

He nods, "And now I'm looking forward to our second date greatly."

"Me too," you kiss his cheek lightly. "Have a goodnight Loki."

"This is your fault you know," Nat says to Bucky who's laying with his head on her lap while they watch TV.

"Goodnight Y/N," he turns and walks towards his apartment.

You watch until he turns a corner and as soon as he's out of sight, you walk quickly down the hall in the opposite direction. A few moments later you swing open the door to Nat's apartment without knocking.

"I know," he mumbles and turns off the show as you nudge him to sit up so there's space for you on the couch between them. "Tell us about your date, Y/N."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @ash-muses @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @sabspoetic @anukulee @lovinglokilaufeyson @beaniemoon

[leighsartworks216]

I would LOVE to see 28 or 31 from the touching prompt list with Sylus !!

I'm Sorry (I Still Love You)

Sylus x gn!Reader

Prompt from this list

28 - feeling for each other in the dark

I spent half the day making cake pops. I'm so tired ;-;

Warnings: hurt/comfort, no dialogue, established relationship, literal sleeping together, cuddling, arguing

Word Count: 725

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The argument was stupid. Certainly nothing worth remembering the source of, but its aftershocks rumbled enough to form a crack between you and Sylus. A deep, yawning chasm that neither of you is willing to cross. You’re both stubborn. Too stubborn to admit you’re wrong, let alone that the other is right.

But you’re also too stubborn to go to the guest bedroom. And Sylus isn’t one to give up territory easily.

That is how you found yourselves in his large bed, laying on opposite sides of the mattress, with your backs to each other. It’s not like this doesn’t hurt - you hate it, hate laying there without the warm, solid protection he brings wrapped around you - but this argument isn’t going anywhere when you’re both so pent up. It’ll just deteriorate into another big mess.

You try not to imagine his thoughts as you tug the blankets higher around your neck and shoulders. They do very little to block out the cold chill that is ever-present in his room, but you’d use paper towels if it meant proving a point. The rustling is deafening in the silence. His steady breaths and erratic heartbeat are too far away.

Seconds tick by, drawn out until each one feels as long as an hour or more. Sleep evades you. Mocks you. Taunts you alongside the dim light of your digital clock. Only 30 minutes have passed. You’re cold, emotionally exhausted, physically drained. If you can just fall asleep; if you can just close your eyes and drift away, you won’t have to think about it any longer.

You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your cold nose under the edge of the blanket…

…..

…….

Nothing happens. Time ticks by. You don’t want to be the first one to break. You don’t want to be the one to give in and give him the satisfaction of a victory, no matter how desperate you are.

The sheets rustle, but you remain still. You hate the jolt of panic that runs through your veins. The fear that he’s going to leave, sleep on the couch or even in another room entirely. Leave you utterly alone. Cold.

You jolt again when something touches your back. It pulls away just as quick, but you can feel its radiating warmth just behind you. Right there. A bridge across the canyon that divides this bed, a bed that has a divot in the center after so long.

Time passes, but it remains. You swear you can hear his anticipation. Hear the silent pleas of his heart that beg for permission to touch you again. Even if he can’t hold you, even if you don’t give him that much, all he wants is one small anchor to you.

You wonder how long he would wait there. Wonder if he would keep his hand resting on the bed inches away just for the chance to stay somehow close. Wonder if he’d wait minutes or hours before sliding it away, slinking back to his half of the bed, to his lonely island.

You wonder because you’ll never know the answers.

You slowly reach your arm out behind you, seeking. He stays still, waiting. The first brush of skin is ecstasy. His warm fingers that shift and curl to hold your hand. That slip so effortlessly between your own, like they’ve made a home there that can never be forgotten. He soothes his thumb over your knuckles, a silent message.

I love you. I’m sorry we’re fighting, but I still love you.

All it takes is one little tug to join the walls of the chasm together. One little tug to have this large, imposing man turning over and sliding over to your side.

His hand never lets go of yours as he curls himself around you. He exudes heat like a furnace. It chases the cold away, effectively banishing it out of the blankets, out of the bed. Your intertwined hands rest together on your stomach, adjusted so his palm rests against the back of your hand. You align your other arm along his where it wraps around you, your palm to the back of his hand this time.

The rustling settles for the final time tonight. SIlence blankets the room once more, relieved of its oppressive harshness. The only sounds are your shared breaths and beating hearts.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddiebingo and @steddiemicrofic.

Mordor It Was

Steddie Microfic January Prompt: New || Countdown to Midnight Prompt: Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 517 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Post-Bat Attack | POV: Eddie | Tags: S4 Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Steve Harrington Will Make Sure Of It, And Then Not Go Away. Pre-Steddie

The darkness takes hold faster than Eddie imagined. He didn't think one bite, followed by another, and another, could fuck up his whole world this much. But it has, and now he's faced with the reality that he's gonna die here. On the ground, having run in the wrong direction.

Having failed.

And that's something he's gonna have to live with. Just, not for very long. He can feel his pulse hammering, beating in his chest. His neck. As the blood pulses out of him, spilling onto the filthy ground below.

He wanted to do better, wanted to not run away this time, but he still managed to fuck it up. 

Goddamnit.

He's made peace with it, even if Henderson isn't as accepting of what's coming. Maybe it's the blood loss making Eddie feel serene when he should be fighting, panicking.

It doesn't matter.

Steve Harrington is here, fighting for him. 

Eddie kind of wishes he wouldn't. He's floaty, no longer feeling pain, and anything Steve can possibly do will disturb that, surely.

"Eddie, for fuck's sake," Steve's saying, and Eddie tries to open his eyes.

"Eddie!"

His eyes snap open. Steve is hovering, "Good. That's good. I'm going to pick you up. Don't fucking die."

He's definitely gonna die, but he nods. He'll try his best.

Steve tugs on him, and the pain that sears through him is above and beyond anything he's ever felt. He lets out a hoarse scream.

"I know, I'm sorry," Steve says, throwing him over his shoulder like he weighs nothing at all, repeating his previous order: "Don't fucking die."

But Eddie thinks he'll do just that.

When he wakes up, he's in a sterile hospital room. Machines are beeping, whirring, and he thinks this has to be the calm before the storm.

But Steve Harrington's sitting in the chair next to him, looking comfortable, his feet propped up on Eddie's bed, reading a book.

Harrington reads? 

Eddie squints, tries to look closer, to see what he's reading, and realizes it's not a new book. No, it's his own copy of The Return of the King. He recognizes his own paperback's well-worn, dog-eared cover.

"My book," Eddie croaks, and Steve startles so bad, the book goes flying, skittering across the tile floor.

"I'm sorry. Wayne left it. I was bored," he starts, then immediately changes direction, "You're okay, it's okay," already pressing the call button, hammering it with his thumb, as if he's convinced Eddie's gonna drop dead in the next five seconds without help. 

The way the room fills, maybe he will. Steve has backed up against the wall, the book clutched to his chest. 

There's poking, and prodding.

Wayne rushes in, and Steve still stands there.

Finally, the crowd thins. Apparently, he's gonna live.

Steve sits back down.

"So, what's new?" Steve teases, and Eddie laughs. His throat is hoarse, dry. Steve pours water from the pink, plastic pitcher, directing the straw to his mouth. 

Eddie takes the longest, best drink of his life, then says, "Not much. You?"

Steve holds up the book and grins, "Learning about Mordor."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for these challenges, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and @steddiebingo and follow along with the fun!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Scary Little Christmas

Warnings: non/dubcon, alcohol, humiliation, spanking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You make a mistake while cooking Christmas dinner.

Character: Frank Castle

Day One of the December Daze Challenge. Prompt - i didn't know the egg nog was spiked! + don’t look at them, why are you looking at them? look at me. they’re not going to help you. - source

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pour yourself another glass of the rich eggnog. It’s unlike any you’ve had before. Luxurious almost. You sip on the clear mug of the festive fuel as you flutter around the warm kitchen. The stove sends a radiating swelter through the space, along with the scent of turkey and thyme. 

You set the cup down and flip on the stove light. You have a look at the turkey through the window. You take the thermometer and stand, gripping the handle as your head ripples oddly. Ooh, it must be the heat. You should open a window, yet the blistering cold hardly sounds much better. 

You open the door and reach through to poke the turkey with the tip. You wait until the temperature pops up. Almost there. 

“Peach,” Frank’s voice drawls from the front room. 

As always, you are diligent in your response. You rush you to look in on him as you press your sweaty palms to the front of your apron. You give a sheepish smile. 

“Yes, sir,” you say. “Bird’s almost done.” 

“Not too worried ‘bout that,” he wiggles his can at you. “Get Bill too.” 

Your Christmas is small. Just you, him, and his best friend. An old marine buddy who sleeps as much on your couch as in his own bed. You don’t mind, he knows how to keep Frank mellow. 

“Of course, honey,” you take his can, a swish of dregs still in the bottom, then take Billy’s glass. As you weave around the table, you stumble over your own toes.  

“Eh, slow down,” Frank warns, “don’t need ya makin’ a mess.” 

“Yes, sir,” you reply. It’s a call-and-answer. You can’t leave him unheard. 

You go into the kitchen and dump what’s left in the can. You rinse it and put it in the recycling bin. You take a new one from the fridge and slide it into his coozy. You mix Billy a new drink from the bottle he brought with him. 

You return and serve Frank first. Billy smiles as he accepts his glass. “Smells delicious,” he comments. 

“Thank you, Billy,” you step back and blink, your lashes seeming to catch each other. “It’s a pretty big turkey so there’s a lot to go around.” 

“Good, I’m starving,” he slaps his flat stomach then sips from his glass, “that’s good. You make the best drinks.” 

“Just coke and whiskey,” Frank grumbles. 

“Sure, but it’s a good balance,” Billy raises his glass. 

“Thank you, sir. Uh, that eggnog you brought is pretty good. I’m on my third glass. I know Frank doesn’t like it very much,” you say. 

“Eggnog?” Frank echoes. 

Billy chuckles, “oh yeah? You like it?” 

“Sure. I haven’t had any since I was a kid.” 

He laughs again, “did you read the label?” 

Frank stiffens and slurps from the can. You look at him and shake your head. “Kinda.” 

“It’s Baileys, sweetheart. 60 proof. You been drinking it straight?” 

“You brought her alcohol?” Frank sits ups. 

“I brought it for everyone. I was being a good house guest, Castle.” 

“You been drinking?” Frank turns his sneer on you, knowing Billy will meet him with the same. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know--” 

“You telling me you didn’t taste the rum?” He snarls. 

You blink and glance at Billy nervously. He shrugs and sips his whiskey. 

“Don’t look at him, why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not going to help you.” Frank barks. 

You flinch and face him. You clasp your hands together. “I don’t drink sir, I wouldn’t know--” 

“You talking back to me?” He sits forward and reaches to put his beer down. 

“No, sir. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before--” 

“Get over here,” he points in front of him. “And shut your smart mouth.” 

Your lip trembles as you nod and put your eyes down. Usually, he’s until Billy isn’t there, or at least, you are somewhere private. You know it’s bad because he isn’t. 

You shrink down, curling your shoulders and approach him. You’re all too aware of the other man in the room. Just as conscious of his full attention. As you near Frank, he grabs your wrist and wrenches you forward. You whine as you stagger. 

“Don’t be goddamn stubborn,” he growls. 

You snivel and apologise again. 

“Get yourself over my knee. And pull that skirt up while you’re at it.” He commands. 

You obey. You lay across his lap and reach back to lift your skirt. He just as quickly grabs your panties and swipes them down your ass. You whimper again, your thighs quivering as you’re exposed to the room. To Billy. 

Frank spreads his calloused hand across your ass. You brace yourself as he lifts his arm, leaving your skin cold. The first strike is scalding. You cry out as your flesh stings. You keep your head down as he does it again. Spanking you so hard that you feel it in your spine. 

“You know better than that,” he reprimands as he lays each slap. 

When he stops, he keeps his hand on your fiery skin. You don’t dare move. You stay draped over his lap as the noise of the football game continues on around you. 

“Go on,” he gives a lighter tap. “Get dinner on the table. Game’s getting good.” 

You lift yourself, pulling up your panties as you keep your eyes on the floor. You’re too humiliated to look at Billy. As you drop your skirt. You sense him shift in his seat and it makes you wince. You flee to the kitchen. 

The turkey is done. You take it out and blink away tears as you carve it. You sort out light and dark meat on a platter and carry it to the table. You arrange all the fixings in serving dishes; sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, carrots, beans, turnip, cranberry sauce, gravy, stuffing, and buns. 

You hesitate as you cautiously peek into the living room. 

“Um, sir, dinner--” 

“Go on, wait for us,” Frank waves you away, his eyes fixated on the television. “Wanna see this kick.” 

“Yes, sir,” you whisper. 

You go to the table and sit. You’re patient as you wait for them. Billy comes first, appearing through the kitchen as he brings in his glass with a helping of the eggnog. You look away shamefully. 

“You’re right, sweetheart. It’s pretty good,” he sets the glass down as he sits. 

“Yes, sir, very,” you agree. “I’m sorry I drank so much.” 

“Well, I brought it for that very purpose,” he affirms. 

Frank finally comes in. He claims his chair at the head of the table. You get up and step up next to his shoulder. 

“Can I fix you a plate, sir?” You ask. 

“You know what I like.” 

You take his plate; dark meat, potatoes, carrots, gravy, a bun, and some stuffing. You butter his bun then sit down. He doesn’t move. 

“Well, we got company,” he sneers. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Billy--” 

You go to get up and Billy waves you off. “I’m a big boy, I can serve myself.” 

“Big boy?” Frank echoes under his breath. 

Billy snickers and shakes his head, “jeez, Frank, it’s Christmas. Have a bit of holiday cheer.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a child,” Frank snaps. 

“Fuck if you don’t act like one,” Billy retorts. 

“Big boy. Think you’re a fucking big boy,” Frank repeats. “I’ll show you a man.” 

The table lurches as Frank stands. You stare at him as he reaches for you. He grabs your upper arm, his fingertips dipping into the bruises already there. He rips you up to your feet and moves you around the table in front of him. He kicks the chair behind him away as he hits it. 

“You don’t need to take it out on her, Frank. What’s the problem--” 

“I’m showing you what a big man is,” Frank grabs the back of your neck and bends you forcefully. Your stomach crushes his place and you feel the moisture sopping through the layers of your apron and dress. “You come in here, givin’ her that poison--” 

“It’s the holiday. Just a treat--” 

“You both shut your fucking mouth,” Frank tears your skirt up above your ass. “I see the way you look at her. I hear the way she fawns over you. ‘Oh, Billy, thank you’,” he mimics you meanly. “Well, I’ll show you what you’re never going to have.” 

You stare at the wall as Frank tugs your panties down again. He kicks your feet apart and pinches your ass. You squeak as he splays his hand against your flesh and pokes around your cunt. You close your eyes as he brushes your entrance with his rough fingertips. 

He pushes two fingers inside of you and you whine. He wiggles them then slides them out. You hear the clank of cutlery. You blow out between your lips as Frank’s weight shifts around behind you and he pushes his tip between your cheeks. 

He guides himself down to your cunt and bucks his hips mercilessly. He splits you with a single thrust. You gnash your teeth as he jerks again, bottoming out with a grunt. You grip the edge of the table and hold your breath. 

A knife scratches on porcelain. You hear chewing. You lift your head as Frank thrusts again. You stare at Billy as he scoops up gravy, potato, and turkey in a single bite. He sucks the fork clean and smiles. He's entirely unbothered by the gruff display. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Frank puffs but does not relent. The table jolts with his aggression and Billy picks up his glass to keep the liquid from sloshing. 

“Well, I don’t want my food to get cold,” he says. 

Frank growls and frames your hips. He snaps his pelvis against you and grunts. “Goddamn, Bill, you always were a goddamn freak.” 

Billy laughs and takes a gulp of the eggnog. He swallows and lets out a sigh, “well, you know, I won’t mind if there’s leftovers. I'll be happy to eat them up.” He winks and Frank pumps into harder. 

“Fucking bastard,” he snarls and his flesh slaps you loudly. “Peach, you keep looking at him but you remember who you belong too. “He bends over you and loops his arm around to grab your chin. He lifts you, arching your back as he forces your head up. He ruts into you relentlessly. “Remember, it ain’t fucking him.” 

[fanaticsnail]

Hi Snail!! It's been a little while, I hope you and the family are doing well! I thought I'd pop in with so self-indulgent birthday thoughts I've had throughout the day.

1. Mihawk with a happy trail. (No other thoughts, but pretty man I'd desire to bite all over.)

2. Baking a birthday cake with Sanji! initially, he was going to have it be a surprise, but after catching him, we both worked on it together. (More platonic leaning vibes, he'd be such a nice friendo)

3. Shanks accidentally starting a citywide party in celebration of my birthday (he gets excited at the thought of a party), but ends up leading me off to just spend time alone on some isolated hilltop. It's a very peaceful evening shared between us.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY WRENNYX!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA. Please have a mini fic on your special day for the broody swordsman 🖤. I'm sorry I didn't write more, my love!

Happy Trail

Masterlist Here

Word Count: mini fic

Synopsis: Mihawk is not as well groomed as he usually keeps himself. You notice, and you can't help yourself.

Themes: Mihawk x f!reader, established relationship, suggestive content, Mihawk is unkept, husband x wife, domesticity.

Mihawk, arching his brow as perplexion dawns on his face as you lower yourself to the ground beside his thighs. Leaning back on the chair, unlacing his knee from its position atop the other, he raises his wineglass to his lips. Eyes never leaving yours, he watches as you eagerly crawl between his knees and place your hands splayed atop both of his muscular and lanky legs.

"My dear," he utters when releasing the lip of the wine glass from his open mouth, tongue darting out to collect the spillover from his bottom lip, "Just what do you think you are doing?"

You hum gently, moving your thumbs on soothing circles to the apex of his lowered hemline. Adonis belt on full view, you gently caress your digits over the short patch of silky, dark locks and shudder in delight at the sensation.

"You're not as groomed as you usually keep yourself, my darling," you note, gently flicking over the follicles, "I am not complaining."

Mihawk shuddered away from your touch, the ministrations tickling at his abdomen causing a slight twitch to his lips and a smile reserved only for you in its wake.

"Oh, really?" he feigned indifference, his body reacting against his will as he leaned into your touch, "You are not complaining?"

Reaching forward, he placed the wine glass down on the table in front of him, all the while holding your eyes with his honey-hued orbs. Leaning down, he collected your chin within his right hand and rose you to stand. As you rose to your feet, he gently guided your right hip with his left hand and urged you forward to straddle his waist.

"You're telling me," he gently hooked your hair over your ear and caressed your jawline gently, "You, my beautiful wife," he pressed his lips to your cheek, "Enjoy having a partially scruffy husband?"

Mihawk smiled against your cheek, pressing a further three kisses slowly against your cheek towards your neck. His moustache and beard tickled your face, prompting you to curl in to his soft touch.

"Careful now," he whispered, his lips finally catching that place on your neck below your earlobe that had a soft gasp fled your lips, "I might think you prefer me a little untamed, beloved."

"Mihawk," you gasped, your chest rising with the bloom of need in your chest and stomach. He chuckled against your neck, gently clamping his teeth down on your pulse and soothing it with his tongue.

"Upstairs, dear," he chuckled against your skin, his wandering hands gently caressing your knuckles as you continued to toy with his treasure trove of dark curls, "Let me show you just how wild and unbridled your husband can truly be for you."

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[iniquitousyearning]

theodore nott • may i have this dance?

info: smallish blurb for @thatdammchickennugget’s hogmarch challenge. prompt four. (i know im a day late lol sorry mari ily)

summary: theodore told everyone that dances weren’t his thing and decided he wasn’t going to attend the yule ball. when you agreed to go with cormac, he realized that he’d made a big mistake, and was there for you when you needed him most.

tags: soft and fluffy. shitty cormac per usual.

You should have seen it coming.

You should have damn well known that accepting Cormac's half-assed invitation to the Yule Ball was practically signing up for one thing and one thing only:

a one-way ticket to misery.

The sting of his abandonment wasn’t even the worst of it--though it did occur almost immediately, sneaky bloke somehow managing to slither off before Dumbledore even had the chance to make it to the podium to give the opening fucking speech.

Truthfully, you probably could have gotten over that. With enough drinks, that is.

The real kicker came after the bewildering manner in which he vanished into the ether. The moment he reappeared all the same, as if nothing had even happened, accompanied now by your ex-best friend, clinging to his arm like a fucking lifeline.

His smirk, so brazenly triumphant, seemed to stretch wider than the chasm between you, swallowing up his entire face in a painfully irritating display of mockery and betrayal as he shot you an infuriating wink from across the room, leading your friend through the crowd and into position for the first slow dance.

That was it. There was no goddamn way you were staying in that cursed room for even a millisecond longer.

If not for your ironclad resolve, you were fully convinced you would have set the entire room ablaze in a whirlwind of rage as you stormed out.

Yet, as you downed nearly half the flask of firewhiskey you had concealed beneath your flowing emerald green gown, a profound epiphany struck you: that wretched excuse for a human being didn't merit even a fraction of your emotional investment.

What he truly warranted, from the depths of your seething soul, was a resounding void of utter insignificance.

And with that realization burning in your chest, you pivoted on your heels and pushed your way through the throng, feigning ignorance to Pansy's concerned calls and Mattheo's mocking gaze as he reached out to grasp your arm, undoubtedly ready to ridicule you for being left high and dry before the first damn dance.

Your friends had warned you of this inevitable outcome, but your stubbornness had clouded your ears to their warnings.

You live and you learn, right?

"Wrong," Mattheo, Theodore, Enzo, Blaise, and Draco would have most definitely retorted in unison.

You could practically hear it in the recesses of your mind as you pushed through the large double doors and out into the warm spring breeze flowing through the corridor. They would have reminded you that sometimes it pays to heed the advice of someone who's walked the same path, that perhaps they were genuinely trying to watch out for you for once.

Of course, you would have simply scowled and rolled your eyes in response. You didn't need advice from anyone, definitely not them. Although…it certainly would have paid off to listen just this once…

Just then, in that fleeting moment of mental pondering, an intriguing thought popped into your mind;

Perhaps, just perhaps; you were the problem here.

…..No. Nope. Not even close.

You forcefully dismissed that nagging notion the very second it dared to intrude. No, you couldn’t, and simply wouldn’t entertain the idea that you were at fault here.

The reason you were making a hasty exit from the Yule Ball before the first dance had even commenced, the reason the echo of your black heels striking the cobblestones beneath them reverberated throughout the damp and desolate corridor, was solely because of Cormac.

If you were the problem, you’d be the one in there dancing with whomever you pleased, paying no mind to the feelings of others. Your Yule Ball evening was over. And not even the combined efforts of Godric Gryffindor, Professor Snape, Salazar Slytherin and Filch's bloody cat could have kept you from fleeing.

But in truth, if you were being completely real with yourself, you weren’t even all that bummed. A very large part of you didn’t even want to partake tonight.

Perhaps that was due to the fact that the man you longed to accompany the dance with had adamantly declared his aversion to such festivities, and simply decided not to attend.

But that’s neither here nor there at this point.

As you reached the threshold of the courtyard, your gaze fell upon the breathtaking scene unfolding before you: a moonlit evening enveloped in a torrential downpour, each raindrop hammering against the emerald expanse of grass with relentless force.

It was as tragically beautiful as it was suiting.

And as you were lost in the beauty of nature's fury, you were startled by a husky voice slicing through the stillness, calling out your name from down the hall. Nearly leaping out of your own damn skin, your head snapped to the side, your eyes meeting those of a tall, strikingly handsome Italian man striding purposefully towards you.

"Hey," Theodore called out, his voice gentle yet determined, "Wait up."

You rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Force of habit.

“I saw you leaving,” he continued, his steps quickening as he closed the distance between you. “Are you okay?”

You met his concerned gaze with a raised eyebrow, a hint of sass colouring your reply, "don’t I look okay to you?"

Theodore's gaze caressed you, hunger evident in his half-lidded eyes as they roamed over your form with a blend of admiration and concern. Barely audible, a curse slipped from his lips in Italian before he locked eyes with you once more, a palpable shift in the intensity of his gaze.

"You look more than okay, Bella," he murmured, taking a single step closer. “Doesn’t mean you feel it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart quickening its pace in response to his proximity. As Theodore’s words washed over you, a shiver ran down your spine, your skin tingling with the heat of his gaze.

This was the man you’d longed to attend the dance with tonight. The one who swore he’d never take part in such idiocy. Standing before you, clad in an all black suit.

You didn’t even have a thought to question it—to question him—on what the hell he was doing here, dressed like that—because as you stood there, your temperature rising, you met his eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and longing swirling within your own.

“Maybe not,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, “but somehow…you make it hard to feel anything else.”

Theodore's lips curved into a knowing smile, and his tongue darted out to wet them, his eyes locking with yours in silent understanding.

"Then maybe," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "we should find a way to make you feel everything."

Your entire body froze in place as Theodore slowly extended his hand towards you, the world around you fading into insignificance as if time itself had paused, as if someone had cast a spell on the clock. Almost entirely speechless, you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his, the anticipation thick in the air as the distant strains of a slow dance song filtered through the corridor, emanating from the Yule Ball.

With a gentle smile, Theodore broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper, "may I have this dance?"

As your lips parted to respond, a whirlwind of emotions danced across your face, your eyes flickering between his outstretched hand and the captivating depths of his gaze. A mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, your usually sassy self left utterly speechless, and with deliberate slowness, you surrendered your hand to his, relishing in the warmth that flooded your senses as he drawed you closer and into his embrace.

Theodore’s hands found their place on your waist with a gentle yet firm grip, pulling you closer to him as if to reassure you of his presence. You reciprocated by resting your palms on his shoulders, feeling the heat emanating from his body, its intensity seeping through the fabric of his suit jacket, igniting a tingling sensation in your fingertips.

You let your eyes trace a path up his strong chest, taking in the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath the fabric of his shirt. It was then that you noticed the emerald silk tie adorning his neck, its colour mirroring the rich hue of your dress almost perfectly.

Utterly mesmerized, you couldn’t comprehend the way this man had rendered you so bloody speechless. You’d never have expected any of this in a million years.

Finally, you managed to exhale, your voice barely above a whisper, “you…you matched my dress…”

Theodore’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a tender smile playing on his lips.

“Only because I knew you’d be wearing it,” he replied, his voice warm, a soft caress against your skin. “Cormac is a fucking idiot.”

A breathy laugh escaped your lips, mingling with the soothing melody of the rain and the gentle hum of the slow dance tune. You blinked, looking up at him through your lashes, finding yourself lost in the depth within the ocean of his eyes.

“You knew he’d ditch me,” you whispered, the words barely audible over the soft cadence of the music. As you watched Theodore’s eyes trace the curve of your lips, a flicker of realization dawned upon you. “You were betting on it.”

“I knew you deserved better,” he murmured, a soft swallow rippling through his throat as he spoke, his eyes shimmering beneath the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the rain-soaked courtyard. “And I was hoping you’d see it too.”

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” you whispered, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

You thought back on the advice from the others. All those times Theo was quiet, just watching. Listening.

Theodore’s expression softened, a rueful smile gracing his lips as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Would you have listened, Bella?”

You could feel the subtle tension dissipate as Theodore's touch lingered on your cheek, and with a gentle swallow, you met his gaze, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you considered his question.

"Perhaps not," you replied, your voice as teasing as the grin gracing your lips. “I am quite stubborn, aren’t I?”

Theo chuckled, and you were going to leave it at that, remain silent and enjoy the moment for what it was, but as your eyes found his once more, a surge of honesty flooded your senses, rendering you momentarily breathless. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips curved up while donning that devilish smirk of his, the sensation of his thumb brushing against your cheek—it was simply all too much to ignore.

"But, you should know,” you confessed softly, "I truly only wanted to go with you."

Theodore blinked, his gaze flickering with surprise at your admission, as if he hadn't expected you to voice your feelings so openly. But there was no denying the electricity crackling in the air between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desires that had lingered beneath the surface for far too long. His fingers threaded gently through your hair, coaxing your face closer to his, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin.

"Dances have never really been my thing, Bella..." his voice, a mere whisper, sent your limbs shuddering with nerves. Your fingers trembled slightly against his shoulders, the only anchor keeping you grounded in the intensity of the moment. "But I'd slow dance across the entire castle with you if you asked..."

Leaning closer, Theodore's breath mingled with yours, the warmth of his words sending a shiver down your spine. As he leaned closer, you could hear the subtle hitch in his breath, the tremor in his exhale.

"I was a fool...” as he hovered inches from your lips, you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the tension between you reaching its breaking point. “…for not mustering the courage to ask you myself.”

You wet your lips, your eyes bouncing all over his face, your entire body trembling with urgency, with need, with hunger. You’d hardly even heard his words at this point.

“Tell me, Bella…." he breathed, the words longing for an absolution only you could grant him. “Will you ever manage to forgive me?”

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned as close as you could possibly get, your lips just barely grazing against his, savouring the moment for every bloody second it had.

"Kiss me," you murmured through a grin, your voice barely above a whisper, "and perhaps…just perhaps, I'll find it in my heart to forgive you."

With that, he dipped low, two strong hands finding your face, capturing your lips with his, and you sighed, lids closing, reaching to forage into his hair. A soft exhale escaped him, the kiss deepening, and he cradled your head, holding you closer, his other hand falling to support your neck, thumb skimming your jaw.

You whined, joy glowing in your chest, and you eased against his body, the both of you melting into each other, melting into the moment, the sound of the rain and the rhythmic tune of the slowdance fading away in the foreground.

And as he slowly pulled away from the kiss, Theodore's eyes met yours again, blue orbs shimmering brighter than the moon.

"I’d spend a lifetime making it up to you," he vowed softly, urging your head to rest gently against his chest. "Starting with this dance."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Neverland

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 18

Prompt: Vacation

Rated: T

Tags: No UD AU; Cruise ship; Musician Eddie; Kids' entertainer Steve; Steve in a dress; Homophobic language; Sexual tension; Eddie being a horny disaster

Notes: Based on this brainworm. Artwork of Steve and Robin in their costumes, done by the incredible @arelliann this way.

“Hey, aren’t you on the band?” 

Eddie stops his beeline for the staff room, stuffing the hand that was just about to rip off the bowtie back into his pocket, and turns to face the couple that has strolled up to him. 

“Yeah?” he offers. 

“I knew it,” the woman smiles. “You play the guitar, right?”

“Um, yes,” Eddie says, unable to help the proud upturn of his mouth. “Glad you liked it.” 

The stuff they’re having him play is horrible, but at least he made an impression. It only goes to show how a skilled musician can turn even the most atrocious pieces into- 

“Oh, we didn’t,” says the guy conversationally. “We thought it was horrible.” 

Eddie gapes at them. They look back, like they’re honestly expecting him to reply anything that isn’t fuck you, you rich, entitled assholes. Maybe that’s what he should say. What are they gonna do, keelhaul him?

Except Wayne was so eager for him to take this gig. Two weeks on the board band of the MS Neverland, the Harrington Line's newest, shiniest, luxury cruise ship. He was so hopeful that this might be something Eddie would enjoy, and Eddie thought why the hell not? It sounded like an easy time, a paid vacation doing what he loved most. 

Except it isn't. The jazz music is making his skin crawl, the passengers are a bunch of stuck-up snobs, and the green suit jacket and matching bowtie make him look like some kind of demented leprechaun. 

But he can’t come crawling back home to confess that it didn’t work out.

“Erm,” he says. “Okay. Sorry, I guess.” 

Then, he books it for the staff room, stomach twisting and face burning.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he slips inside, slumping against the door and hiding his face in his hands. “This is so humiliating.” 

“Yeah,” says a voice. “Tell me about it.” 

Eddie lowers his hands.

There's a guy on the ratty couch at the other side of the room. A guy in sheer tights, glittering tulle wings and a dangerously short green dress. 

Eddie almost swallows his own tongue. 

“Hey,” says the guy, shucking off his slippers. There's little fluffy poufs on them. “I've seen you before. You're in the band, right?” 

“Hrrrgh,” Eddie says. The apparition tilts its head. Eddie pretends to clear his throat and tries again. “Yeah. I'm the guitar. I mean play. I play guitar. I've seen you, too.” 

In fact, seen may be too tame a word for what he's been doing. Ogle the way the skirt rides up his thighs until his eyes almost popped out of their sockets is more like it. It's kind of hard not to, he guesses. He's caught several passengers of various genders and ages do the same.

One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “Oh yeah?” 

Eddie nods.

“You're the … erm … kids’ entertainer. The fairy- no, shit, that sounds wrong. The … Tinker- … Tinkerdude.” 

The guy throws back his head and laughs. His throat looks impossibly long in the low-necked dress. 

“Oh my God, that's a new one. I love it.”

“What, really?” Eddie asks, chest fluttering with irrational pride. “I mean … you do?” 

Tinkerdude nods. Then, suddenly, something seems to occur to him. 

“Oh, do you mind?” he says, standing from the couch. “This thing is a bitch to get off.” 

Eddie is about to ask what he means, but then Tinkerdude gestures at something on the back of the dress, something half hidden between the wings, and … oh. Oh, fuck, Eddie’s in so much trouble. 

“Um, sure,” is what he says. Luckily, Tinkerdude has already turned his back, so he doesn’t see how Eddie’s legs wobble as he bridges the few steps between them. 

“So, why the dress?” he asks, just to say anything while his clammy hands struggle with the rickety zipper. “Wasn't there, like, a Peter Pan costume?” 

Tinkerdude chuckles. “There was, but I gave it to Robin. She was threatening to jump off board if she had to wear this, and I couldn't risk that. And besides, I make a great fairy. My dad calls me one all the time. Thanks, I got it from here.” 

The dress falls open, revealing broad, muscled shoulders, and inches upon inches of suntanned skin. It's riddled in moles. Small ones, large ones, some light and some so dark they look almost black, scattered all over the guy's back, all the way down to the dip of his spine and the curve of his-

Eddie reels backwards, trips over the slippers and just barely manages to turn his fall into a clumsy collapse into the sofa. It groans. Or maybe that was him. 

Tinkerdude, luckily, doesn’t notice. He's too busy shimmying into the jeans he's just pulled from the rucksack by the couch - all without taking off the tights, mind you, and how the fuck is Eddie supposed to live with the knowledge of what's under that skintight denim?

“What's your name?” 

Eddie jerks his eyes up. Tinkerdude, who has paused with his shirt in his hands, is looking at him with a quizzical expression and Eddie can't help but wonder if he's asked him that before. His chest has moles, too. So do his stomach and hips. The dress is bunched around his middle like a sparkly green miniskirt. The fact that the wings seem to be spouting from his butt does, unfairly, not diminish his hotness. 

“I, erm … Eddie,” Eddie croaks. Tinkerdude smiles and shrugs into his shirt. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” he says. “I'm Steve.”

He lets the dress drop to the ground, carelessly stuffing it inside his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Looking forward to hearing you play again,” he calls as he breezes out. “I think you're really good.” 

Then he's gone and Eddie’s left alone in the staff room, trying to recover from whatever it was that just happened. 

Neverland just got one helluva lot more interesting. 

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