#the butt of the joke was even himself too and it was all just because he wanted to make sam laugh

[shadystranger]

throughout dean's death scene he tries to hide his pain from the rebar stabbing right through him. he keeps smiling and tries to joke as much as he can to lessen sam's sadness because sam keeps looking at him all panicked and crying

like dean plays his own death off to be as sweetly as possible to sam he tries to assure him, coddle him as if when they were kids and he'd try to make sam laugh to take his mind off everything terrible in their life

[chocum]

LIKE THAT !

— their favorite positions feat. kento nanami, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, ryomen sukuna.

WARNINGS. fem reader (she/her), v penetration, toys (vibrator, butt plug), slight overstim, switch nanami, boobjob, sub cho, pssy job, choking, mean kuna (duh) kunas tongue hands note: hiiiii this is my first post on here! im nervous but vv excited to be starting a blog. feedback + reblogs are greatly appreciated! also sorry if my characterization is off ;( ty and enjoyyyy ᡣ𐭩

KENTO NANAMI & MISSIONARY — “baby, let me look at you. wanna watch you take it” + “that’s it, my gorgeous girl. stick your tongue out. so cute when you go dumb”

no matter how hard he tries, nanami always finds himself cumming too fast. embarrassed, he’ll nuzzle into the side of your neck, flushed nose bridge dusting your sensitive skin as his milky cum spills into your warm pussy. long, fluffy, blonde lashes curl up when he screws his eyes shut at the overwhelming feeling of your gummy walls and he’s praying you don’t hear how pathetic he sounds whining, or feel the way he shakes and trembles being sucked dry by his sweet girl.

on the other hand, nanami also found that when he fucks you from the front— his hand wrapped tightly around the base of your ankle, the other holding your favorite vibrator against your puffy clit, you cum too fast. your back arching so prettily for him as he forces your shaky thighs apart so he can keep fucking into you through your high.

he only finds pleasure in yours, so naturally it becomes his favorite position.

plus, he loves to watch your pretty tits bounce with every deep stroke— your face contorting, jaw slacking at the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy out as he does so, so well.

ᯓ

“don’t look away, keep those pretty eyes on me,” nanami’s hair is mussed, eyelids drooping low almost completely covering his brown irises. his flushed ears swallow the filthy, filthy sounds that you make at the feeling of his fat veiny, cock dragging against your sticky walls. they’re pornstar-esque and your hips buck up at the constant vibration against your poor abused clit. body growing limp, eyes fogging over, rolling back—

“uhn uh baby, look at me”

you do as you’re told: whimpering out a breathy, “yes sir” the air in the room is heavy, a thin layer of sweat sticks in your body, and nanami’s musky scent envelops you as you write underneath him. “my baby feels good? feels good when i fill your pussy up, hm?”

tears start slipping down the apples of your burning cheeks as you nod sheepishly. he’s rolling his hips, making you feel all of him at every angle.

your clear slick drips down his heavy balls and he’s gritting his teeth, strokes turning sporadic because fuck he’s getting close, “yeah my messy girl, show me how good it feels. let me fucking feel it.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO & BOOBJOBS — “you look so pretty with my dick between your tits like that” + “keep fucking goin. gonna paint that face. know you love it when i do, my dirty girl”

toji’s hands are always, always glued to your boobs. sometimes he jokes he can’t even sleep without sliding his hands underneath the hem of your shirt so he can grope and pinch at your tits. they’re just so soft and pretty, he thinks. especially when your nipples harden against his warm tongue, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive buds.

the first time you gave him a boobjob, he felt dizzy. it was too good. so warm, so soft. his leaky cock slipping between your smooth mounds with every quick jerk of his hips.

he gets so sensitive. vocal, too.

ᯓ

“feels so good when you push them together like that fuck baby,” toji’s chest heaves as he groans, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your pillowy tits embracing him, taking him in so sweetly, “spit on it”

you’re looking up at him through long lashes with big heart eyes, giggling before you purse your plump lips, dipping your head to let a fat glob of foamy spit fall onto his tip. it glides down over the slit of his cock— “shit” before sliding onto your chest making his head spin, a long string of curse words sounding under his breath.

“cum for me toj’ want it all over me” your tongue pokes out to lick and lap at the salty pre oozing out his reddened head.

“you’re so fucking dirty,” his chest heaves some more— body jerking, his toned abs flexing. then there it is, that fucking smirk. the scar on his lips jumps up following the change in his expression.

“ask me s’more. i might give you what you want, but only if you beg for it. fuckin’ drain it out of me, doll”

CHOSO KAMO & COWGIRL — “ride me baby, please. love when you bounce on me” + “you're too pretty shit. make me cum so fast m'sorry”

you are choso’s first everything. he had never been in a relationship before you and he doesn’t plan on leaving, so you’ll be his last as well.

the first time you two were intimate, you took your time with him, pressing soft kisses to every inch of his toned body, showering him with your warm love.

before lowering yourself on him, you were grinding against his needy cock. hips moving in fluid motions, back .. and forth .. leaving him a pretty whimpering mess underneath you. putty in your little hands.

when you finally let him in, your pussy hugging him so so tightly he came before even bottoming out :(

ᯓ

“fuck- yesyesyes” choso’s grip on your waist is tight, his hips slamming up against your ass as he fucks into you so deeply, leaky cock twitching inside your silky walls. “feels so good, oh my god”

it’s so cute how eager he gets— his face all pinky, blush covering his pale skin. your hand dances up his lean chest before reaching his neck, fingers wrapping around him, your nails sinking into his skin, branding little crescent-shaped marks. and his eyes roll back in such a sultry way, his adam’s apple bobbing up as he groans, it should be fucking illegal.

“fu- ple- ba-by” he can’t even speak. he’s trying so hard— so, so hard to be good and ask for your permission, but pretty whimpers fill the room in its place and he’s cumming, filling your pussy up to the brim as he cries out your name mixed with “sorry”’s because he knows he’s supposed to ask for it.

RYOMEN SUKUNA & FULL NELSON — “who gave you permission to be so fucking messy, huh? creaming 'round my dick, fucking filthy.” + “screaming like a cheap whore— be quiet and take it. unless you want to be treated like one”

sukuna is just so rough when he fucks you. mean too, throwing you around like you weigh nothing, using every limb to his advantage. he gets off to seeing your ruined face, red teary eyes, and mascara smeared all over your flushed cheeks with drool sliding down your chin.

he loves it when you’re helpless, either tied up or his arms holding you in place.

ᯓ

sukuna’s thick cock is buried deep in your sloppy pussy. his arms snaked underneath your thighs— hands on the back of your head, forcing you to watch how greedily your pussy sucks him in. “what a filthy fucking whore. ‘s fucking pathetic.”

white cream jackets his cock and it glistens against the dim lights in his palace every time he pulls out before slamming you back down.

he’s a feral fucking animal, rutting into you feverishly with deep grunts. one of his hands is on your clit—tongue flicking against your otherwise neglected nub. it’s too much. you’re already struggling to take the inches he’s bullying into your tight pussy and here he goes adding more.

“so f- full ‘ku”

“be grateful,” he grunted, one of his thumbs pushing a pretty diamond butt plug into your tight ass— using your slide as lube while two fingers shove down your throat.

“i could’ve chosen one of the other concubines— be grateful and fucking take it.”

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey I liked your writing on reader having to get in between Wolverine and Deadpool all the time 😆 it made me think what it would be like if they were crushing on you and there is a rivalry between them. If you could write what they’d do to win your favor or what shenanigans that would come with it 😂 subtle or not

These two weren’t fond of sharing.

So when the other finds that they have similar feelings towards you, the outcome is never good.

They’re childish in a way where if either Logan or Wade was coincidentally standing too close to you, the other was bound to notice and make a scene out of it, all the while you wished you were anywhere else in that moment.

The pair couldn’t get along even if they bothered to try as sooner or later they’d end up stabbing each other just because the other one was breathing too loudly or just merely existing.

And yet their feelings towards you ends up causing Logan and Wade to butt heads more often, especially if you were constantly teaming up together, with you often being their meditator in all their conflicts.

Wade was more vocal and borderline flirty when it came to interacting with you, he would crack jokes, boop you on the nose or even playfully smack you on the ass just to hear your yelp in surprise and become all flustered.

‘Plush ass you’ve got there, babe! wouldn’t mind laying my head on it sometime and use it as a beautiful fluffy pillow.’ - Wade, skipping away.

Wade could be quite clingy at times so there would be moments where you can barely escape the guy as he hanging on your side like a koala bear.

You: Wade can you let go.

Wade: and let go of my emotional support person? *gasp* Do you want me to die?

You: well considering how fast you regenerate, you technically can’t die-

Wade: do you hate me? Do you think I’m clingy?

You: no- well yes but-

Wade: you hate me!

Wade can be dramatic and the only way to shut him up is to just let him be in close proximity of you and allow him to talk your ear off about how good a dog parents you’d be to Dogpool.

Dogpool is your weakness, you could never say no to Dogpool and Wade knows this like the back of his hand and will use this as leverage over wolverine.

After all It’s not like he has a version of himself that was an actual wolverine or maybe even a honey badger in yellow spandex. So Wade counts this as a win on his end.

Logan on the other hand would be more subtle with his approach, even though to Wade, Logan’s subtly was as an dopey cow standing in a field of grass with how the scruffier man tended to keep by your side protectively; so much so that he might as well start growling at every person who ever laid eyes on you in general.

He’s a guard dog of a man in every sense of the word but how that came to be was from a whole lot of trauma and loosing people he’s ever cared about, so needless to say he won’t act like he’s interested in you at first, his heart had been wounded about as much as his body has and even had the mental scars to prove it.

He’s lived a long life of pain, fighting, suffering and heartache. He’s not going to falter so easily until you did something that made him feel safe enough to fall for you.

Once he has however it was impossible to go about the mission without him always wanting to stand guard by your side when he sees someone he doesn’t fully trust, always using his body as a shield for your own as Logan knew he could handle much more punishment then you could. So he’d rather avoid you being grievously hurt by any means possible.

He’d probably scold you if you ever were hurt as he was afraid that he might loose you, yet his hands were gentle but firm as they worked to patch your wound so it’d heal properly.

Wolverine: you’re an idiot you know.

You: wow I really feel the love over here.

Wolverine: *huffs* you expect me to kiss your ass when what you did was reckless and could’ve killed you? *his hands linger on your own even long after he’s done patching you up as though committing your warmth to memory*

Logan is a secret softy who wouldn’t push you away if you were to ever fall asleep on him, he’d grumble but that’s about it.

He’d even toss you his jacket if you were to ever complain about being too cold or leave it somewhere for you to take yourself, again he’d act like he didn’t want you to but he actually did with how he almost smiled upon seeing you looking comfortable in his jacket.

Logan is evidently more subtle about his crush on you then Wade is, or so he’d likes to think but Wade can messily tell he’s smitten when he sees how Logan’s eyes were quick to follow you in a crowded room with protectiveness and adoration.

Wade: aww has our dear friend taken the stick out of your ass and you fell in love?

Logan: *growls* fuck off Wade.

Wade: *holds his hands to his lips and gasps* oh my gosh! You have! Me too!

Logan: *looks at him* you what?!

Wade: yeah cats out of the bag, I like them too wolvie. you’re not the only one to find them cute, how close minded of you seriously.

They can’t share to save their lives, I’ve mentioned this before but they genuinely can’t even if they tried because one is them was bound to get jealous and try to take you away from the other.

Wade: do you really want to be near me grumpy all the time? Yawn fest much.

You: stop riling him up, you’re making Logan mad. Why are you like this?

Wade: maybe because you deserve to be in the company of someone who isn’t still unhealthily hung up on his previous red headed lover.

Logan: you shut your fucking mouth.

Wade: see! He’s not denying it!

You: I’m going to go now. *leaves*

Logan: you should make full time fuck head your job.

Wade: and you should make full time teenage brooder in a full grown man’s body who still isn’t over his first breakup yours.

The shenanigans that would occur between these two would be headache inducing to say the least.

The constant fights that would break out between them that you’d have to break up.

The bickering over who gets to act like a couple with you on missions. They might even play rock, paper, scissors multiple times behind your back.

Wade probably tried to trip Logan up in front of you once but it backfired when Logan made Wade trip up instead as he puts a hand on your lower back and guided you away from the poor Merc with a mouthful of dirt.

[lovebugism]

do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader

hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Boo!”

You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.

The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.

Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”

You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.

“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.

Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”

“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.

“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.

He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”

“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”

“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.

“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.

Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 

There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.

“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.

Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.

“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”

“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.

You cave instantly. 

You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.

“Good,” the boy hums.

“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.

Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.

You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.

West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 

—————

The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.

Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.

His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.

You shrug. “Nothin’…”

“I missed you.”

You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”

“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.

“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”

“I think so, too.”

“It’s awful.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.

“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.

“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”

You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”

Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”

“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 

“No, it was very intentional.”

“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.

Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”

“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”

“God, you’re such a boy.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FAMILY SECRETS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! + mom! reader, reader is referred to as “mommy” and “wife,” girl dad toru <3, family shenanigans in the grocery store that are unfortunately inescapable when your husband is gojo satoru

“ok,” you nod, looking over your grocery list. “i think that’s everything—”

“mommy, can we please get this,” your daughter looks up at you pleadingly, tugging at your sleeve as she holds a bag of candy—she has satoru’s eyes, wide and blue and so easy to give into. you look at her for a moment before pursing your lips.

“no, satoru. we can’t get this bag of candy.” you turn to the devil himself, glaring at him as he whistles innocently.

“what’re you lookin’ at me for, sweetheart? our little peanut here wants—”

“satoru.”

“fine,” he deflates. you pinch your nose as you sigh.

satoru, in his thirty plus years of life, has surprisingly never had a cavity for how much sugar he consumes. he’s good at taking care of himself, he argues, there’s no chance he’d ever get a cavity. that is, until recently. he visits the dentist and has not one, but two cavities—you think this is a rather alarming sign that he needs to cut back on the sweets, so you take matters into your own hands.

and, well….he’s not handling it very brightly.

“you thought i’d cave just because you tricked our daughter into asking?” you raise a brow, making him huff as he pouts.

“what kind of heartless soul could say no to those eyes?” he asks in disbelief, waving a hand at the small carbon copy of your husband as she blinks up at you, “i mean look at her! she doesn’t deserve the word no.”

“she definitely needs the word no so she doesn’t end up spoiled like you. and i’ve had plenty of practice,” you shoot blandly, “i’ve said no to your eyes all these years haven’t i?”

“even crazier,” he mutters, “i have the most adorable eyes, how could you say no?”

“it’s pretty easy if you ask me,” you shrug.

most people tend to call satoru arrogant—humble is not usually used in the same sentence as gojo satoru. evidently, they’ve never watched him interact with you before—you always find a way to humble him. he’s starting to think he’s the butt of every joke in his own marriage.

“please, baby?” he pouts deeper, “i’ve been good! i floss!”

“no.”

“what if i fold the laundry for a month?” he bats his lashes.

that’s tempting, you have to admit. folding laundry is a very boring job, you’re more than happy to hand it over to satoru for a bag of candy that barely dents your wallet. but then you find your resolve again, crossing your arms as you stare at him unimpressed.

“no, satoru.”

“two months?”

“nope.”

“did you only marry me for my looks?” he asks in disbelief, “because there’s not one ounce of love in that heart of yours.”

“this is for your own good, satoru,” you say firmly, “you had two cavities. how much sugar have you been consuming lately? and don’t think i don’t notice you skipping meals when you’re busy—a chocolate bar does not replace lunch.”

you’re glaring at him, drilling him for his health choices that are not his fault—he’s a busy guy, and he can’t help that a chocolate bar on his way to a mission is all he can squeeze in sometimes. maybe a protein bar would be a better option, but they’re not as tasty, and satoru thinks he deserves to be happy. and then, from the end of the aisle, you hear a few snickers coming from passerby’s. he pouts deeper at the thought of being laughed at as he gets scolded by his wife in the middle of the breakfast aisle.

“what’s the point of living if you’re gonna be miserable?” he groans, “we might as well just start going to bed at nine pm too, while we’re at it. and—”

“that’s actually a lovely idea,” you hum thoughtfully, “you certainly could use the sleep, couldn’t you?”

he glares at you petulantly, sulking as you grab the bag from your daughter’s and put it on the shelf—it’s not the right place, but taking a trip to the candy aisle to place it where it belongs is only venturing deeper into the lion’s den. you’re not letting satoru have more options to choose from.

“you seein’ this, angel?” he turns to your daughter, “you see how mean mommy is? she’s not letting us have candy. make sure you remember that when i ask you who’s your favorite again.”

you roll your eyes, snorting. satoru asks her playfully one night who the favorite parent is—it’s a meaningless question, meant to be a joke and nothing else. you’re sure he expects her to say both—but he gets his feelings severely hurt when she giggles and points to you, staring in disbelief as you grin in victory and kiss her cheeks. you even rub salt on the wound when you mumble she’s your favorite baby too.

he’s starting to really think he’s a victim in his own household.

“but mommy gives me candy,” she tilts her head in confusion.

oh no. she’s not supposed to say that—she promised not to say that. why can’t children ever keep a filter on their words? and why can’t they keep their promises?

almost like in slow motion, both of your eyes widen. satoru pauses. you start to sweat. he turns to face you slowly, in abject disbelief.

“what?” you laugh nervously, “no i don’t! we don’t have any candy at home—”

“she keeps it in her drawer!” your daughter adds, as if she wants to see your downfall.

you love your daughter, you really do—but sometimes you think motherhood is a punishment for whatever sin it is that you’ve committed in your previous life. satoru crosses his arms and taps his foot.

“what happened to we’ll all give up sweets together so you’re not alone, toru,” he mocks your voice, squinting at you accusingly. “so we’re a family of liars now?”

“toru, listen—”

“i trusted you.”

“baby—”

“what happened to our wedding vows? what happened to in sickness and in death? a little cavity is enough to change all that? i’m scared to think what you’d do if i lost an arm.”

“well, you’re not the strongest for nothing,” you point out, chuckling nervously, “so we have nothing to worry about there.”

“i can’t believe you,” he spits, turning away from you with crossed arms and a quiet hmph.

“toru, you can’t expect us all to give up sugar just because you can’t stop making poor health choices,” you argue exasperatedly.

so what if you secretly enjoy a kitkat here and there? you deserve it for dealing with not one, but two children at home every single day—sometimes three if shoko comes over, her lifestyle choices aren’t any better. satoru should let you enjoy a piece of candy or two until he fixes his terrible habits that could very well set a terrible example for your very young and impressionable daughter.

“well, i have adult money of my own,” satoru huffs, “and as an adult, i’ll be purchasing my own candy to hide in my own drawer that i won’t share with you since we’re now apparently a family that doesn’t think sharing is caring.”

“i don’t know if i’m raising one child or two,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.

satoru grabs the bag of candy off the shelf, promptly placing it in the cart before walking off ahead of you as he pushes it. your daughter grabs your hand and smiles, tugging you along.

“c’mon mommy,” she says brightly, “you said we can go to the park!”

—————— BONUS ——————

“are you serious, satoru?” you ask incredulously, watching as he comes back to sit on the other end of the bench, ice cream cone in hand.

he didn’t even bring you one—what an asshole.

“oh sorry,” he shrugs, “i figured you and our daughter were planning on getting ice cream on your own without me. since, you know, apparently you guys love to have lots of things without me.”

“you’re being so dramatic—”

“i want ice cream too!” you hear a small voice call from the distance, making you turn to your daughter as she sprints over to you from the playground, eyeing the cone in satoru’s hand.

“you heard her,” he drawls, licking at his strawberry ice cream mockingly, “why don’t you go buy her a secret cone. i won’t look.”

being a single mom of two is a full time job, you think, you didn’t sign up for this.

guess who has two cavities ?? a certain brother of mine. guess who’s entire household has to give up sweets now for their brother’s inability to have proper dental hygiene ?? if you guessed me, you might just be psychic :O

[murdrdocs]

masturbation mention; handjobs; college!art; fem!reader; no spoilers MDNI 18+ w/ ART DOANLDSON

when art donaldson gets a boner, it's nearly impossible for it to go down. he's tried everything in the book. well, everything in patrick's book—taking a cold shower, thinking about his grandmother in her underwear, changing his position. but nothing has ever worked, leaving him to excuse himself at inconvenient times so he could fist his cock until he was satisfied.

but being here with you, art can't do that. he's already flaked on your study sessions one too many times and he really, really doesn't want to have to flake again. for a reason as trivial and embarrassing as a boner at that.

he really didn't mean for it to happen. but he just happens to be in your space, surrounded by your trinkets, watching you move around in a pair of shorts that reminded him of the pair tashi wore that night. which got him thinking about the situation he was in just a year ago. which made him imagine you and him in a situation similar, perhaps even with tashi and patrick there.

you're speaking to him. your hands are moving in patterns that art should recognize, and you're lips are moving, too. but he's distant. distracted.

he blinks twice, shaking the overgrown blond curls out of his face as he fixes his gaze on you again.

"'m ... i'm sorry. what were you saying?"

you drop your hands and place them in your lap. you look disappointed.

"dude. i'm really trying to pass this midterm."

art drops his head. he initially does it in an act of shame, but then he notices your hands resting along your glistening skin and he's suddenly made aware of his boner once more. he groans, resting his elbows into the decorative pillow covering his lap as he covers his face with his hands.

"i know, i know. i'm really, really sorry." he sniffs, straightens up, and focuses all of his attention on studying with you. but now it's you who's distracted.

you tilt your head and eye him up and down. art, worrying that you might have fucking x-ray vision or something, adjusts the way he’s sitting. he thinks he's being casual, but then he clears his throat and looks off to the side and he can hear your small 'oh'.

“haven’t tried thinking about your grandmother?”

art, embarrassed at having been caught, says nothing.

“want me to help you out?” you offer. you say it like a joke, so art laughs. but then you don’t laugh, too.

you’re staring at him, a small smile on your lips as you push your weight into your hands behind you. the twin XL bed can only allow so much room, so even as you’re leaning away from him art feels like you’re right there.

“you’re joking, right?”

you take a second, and then you shake your head.

and that’s how art ends up digging his hands into your sheets as he watches your hand glide over his cock through heavy eyes.

you’re sitting with your feet tucked under your butt, one hand scratching through art’s hair and the other working on his cock.

art’s free hand is pressing into the line of skin between your top and shorts.

you’re doing so well, making him feel so good, but you still ask for confirmation through a low voice.

“does this feel good?”

and your face is so much closer to him than he thought. your voice is right next to his ear. it travels down through him, making even more blood rush to his cock if even possible.

art nods, tearing his eyes away from your hand wrapped around his cock to look at you. but you’re already looking at him, your hand pulling on a loose curl of his while you smile. art smiles back, just before you pull him closer and press your lips to his.

kissing distracts you, so art takes over. he shifts his cock up into your hand, doing the work for you. he circles his hand around your back and pulls you closer until he can feel your breasts pushing against his arm through your shirt. whatever bra you’re wearing must be thin, because art can feel your nipples poking him.

he means to warn you. he wants to let you know before it happens. but you regain some of your focus and your thumb presses into his tip, and he’s thinking about how you told him he had a pretty dick, and he can feel your tits and suddenly his hips are lifting and cock is twitching and he’s cumming all over your hand and his thighs.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

So in The Pro Art says something like “letting you go back to your husband every day isn’t going to be easy is it” - in your mind would he eventually try and convince the reader to leave her marriage for him or would he just kinda accept that she’s not his and keep it as a relationship of infidelity?

the pro

Notes: Got a long-winded answer for you, nonnie.

Warnings: Infidelity; married Reader; coach Art Donaldson

"You could leave him, you know."

It's murmured against your hip. You don't look at him for a few moments; you don't move, and for a few beats, you don't even breathe. It's not the first time he's said it to you, but it catches you off-guard every time.

The first time, he said it right in front of your husband.

The fact that Art had become a near-permanent fixture on your husband's party lists was a blessing and a curse. It was always tantalizing to have him around, but it was also torture. You didn't allow yourself to be drawn away or followed as Art had that first night together. The two of you had agreed after the fact that it had been a reckless act, and that there was too high a risk of getting caught when the house was full of people.

It didn't stop you from fooling around at the house after lessons. It was still reckless, but you'd won the favor and trust of the house staff. They steered clear when Art came to see you, and turned a blind eye if they happened to see him going up or down the stairs.

You came to know every inch of Art's body as well as you knew your own—every scar, freckle, slope—all of it. You learned the taste of salt by lapping a bead of sweat off of the swell of his Adam's apple. You memorized the way a blush spread across his cheeks when you took his cock into your mouth, and the flutter of his lashes as he struggled to against his pleasure to watch—because he liked to watch. You held the memories of his touch, his kiss, his embrace when you went on business trips with your husband, and savored the scant phone calls that you managed to take and make with Art when you were away.

It was enough to get by, and enough to sate you through those parties when he was so painfully close—especially when you were subject to Art palling around with your husband. It was worse still when you'd become the butt of your husband's jokes, though these days, it was about how focused you were on your tennis.

You could see the tightness in Art's expression, the growing cracks in his patience as you forced a smile through tease after tease. But Art had widened his own smile and barbed his words:

"Careful. She could leave you any time she wanted."

You were stunned, and you knew that you weren't covering it well. But your husband hadn't taken it seriously in the slightest. His laughter had covered your shock as he clarified:

"For tennis?"

Art's eyes held your steadily as he lifted his glass to his lips.

"Sure," He agreed after a sip. "For tennis."

--

The next time Art mentioned it, you chalked it up to the heat of the moment.

Art wasn't always mouthy during sex, but sometimes, he seemed unable to stop himself. You had been away from one another for nearly three weeks—no practice or meetings, nothing but a handful of phone calls and a string of texts a mile long.

When you'd returned from your trip, you'd had to wait another week before you'd been able to sneak away and go to his place. You'd hardly been a step inside the door before he was on you. You didn't make it past the front hall before he'd had your tennis skirt shoved up, your panties pulled aside as he drove into you. His body was flush against yours, his hands grasping your hips in a way that you feared would bruise.

"Never letting you out of my sight again," He groaned, "I want you to leave him."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding on for dear life as one of his harder thrusts made the table beneath you rattle, sending a stack of mail sliding to the floor.

But that had been months ago, and he hadn't brought it up since.

As you finally draw in a deep breath now, you force yourself to focus on his ceiling, your fingers tenderly combing over his scalp. You feel him shift against you, his chin resting on your belly.

"...D'you hear me?" He finally presses, and you sigh, knowing that you can't hold off any longer.

"It's not that easy."

"Sure it is."

"No, it isn't."

"You're making it difficult."

"Art."

"You could pack up your shit and walk out tomorrow."

"In theory, sure."

"And in practice. What the hell's stopping you?" Art pushes himself to get a better look at you.

"Besides the fact that I'd be broke?"

"I'll take care of you."

"...You already took care of me," You tease, letting your eyes lower between his legs, a teasing smile on your lips. But when you meet Art's gaze again, your find his expression hardened with annoyance.

"I mean it."

You roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and pushing yourself up.

"I don't have time for this."

"For what? A question?"

"It's not a real question, Art. You're being facetious," You insist, snatching your bra and underwear from where they've been tossed.

"I've never been more serious in my life—Hey, hang on a second," He pleads, taking hold of your arm. You go still, fingers flexing in the fabric of your clothing. Why does he have to do this now? The two of you are meant to be cuddling in your afterglow, not bickering like this.

"I am tired of sneaking around," Art presses closer, the heat of his body beginning to break down the icy wall that you're desperately trying to build up around yourself. "I hate seeing you fake smiles at those stupid parties, and I am sick of not waking up with you."

You squeeze your eyes shut as you force your upset down.

"Art."

"I'm tired of pretending that I don't think about you all the time—"

"Art, don't—"

"And I am tired of pretending that I don't love you."

It takes all of your strength to stay standing. You just manage to shake him off, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the bed again as you try to keep your cool.

"Why would you say something like that?" You breathe. You feel Art's hands smooth over your knees and thighs as he kneels in front of you.

"Because I can't lie to myself anymore," He murmurs. "And I don't want to lie to you about it, either."

"Sometimes a lie can be a good thing." You scrub your hand across your face, trying to settle yourself. When you lower it, you find Art looking crestfallen. You shake your head, cupping his cheeks.

"I don't mean that," You insist. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me you don't feel it, too."

Sometimes a lie can be a good thing. But you know that if you manage it, you'll break this beautiful boy.

"You know that I do."

You watch Art's shoulders relax before he surges up for a kiss. You whine softly as he eases you back onto the bed, rolling his hips. You shiver as you feel his cock twitching and hardening against your thigh.

"You'll leave him?" He mumbles against your lips.

"Yes."

"Soon?"

"Yes."

"Promise me."

"I swear, Art."

"I love you."

You tip your head back, cupping his face and sweeping your thumbs across the swell of his cheekbones.

"I love you, too."

[talaok]

The sweetest remedy

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!pregnant!reader

summary: Joel has a bad day at work, but you know how to make him forget all about it

warnings: Joel is very much in love with his pregnant wife, a bunch of fluff, smut| oral sex (f receiving), Joel takes care of himself but you still swallow, fluffy smut, Joel being the pussy eating king that he is

"what's wrong?"

He'd taken one step into the house and you could already tell something was off

His forehead was creased with lines of annoyance and exhaustion, and by the way he was discarding his boots and jacket you knew he was pissed.

You were on the couch, your body turned towards the entrance, towards him, the tv muted behind you

"nothin'" he grumbled, setting his keys on the counter

"baby" you cooed, pouting softly "c'mere"

And of course, he did

Seeing you was all that made him survive these types of shitty days at work

Especially when he knew you'd be waiting for him in those flimsy summer dresses you loved to wear in the summer,

and especially since he'd gotten your belly to swell with the gift of a child.

You were five months in, and he fell in love with you all over again every time he looked at you

He had you straddling his lap the moment he sat down, his hands on your waist and his eyes all over you.

"tell me what's wrong," you asked again

You hated seeing him all troubled, he deserved nothing but happiness this man of yours, 

because that's what he brought to you every single day

He sighed, before nodding slowly

"it's jus' the guys at work babygirl," he said "nothin' you gotta worry about"

you didn't pay attention to the last part

"What did they do this time?" you asked, softly caressing his chest to try and soothe him

"one of 'em didn't show" he grunted, the palms of his rough hands starting their journey from your pregnant belly to your butt and thighs

"Again?" you raised your eyebrows, annoyed too now "I don't understand why you don't just fire them and get new guys"

The first little smile since he first came home tugged at his lips

"what a coldhearted little boss you'd make" he joked, smirking softly.

You rolled your eyes, biting down a grin of your own

"you know I'm right"

He pushed you even closer to him before responding, wanting to feel more of you, all of you

"I know you are babygirl" he nodded, his forehead to yours now "but you know how I am... I know these guy's stories and evrythin'- I jus' don't have it in me"

Ah that's right

Who could have ever expected such a rough and tough exterior to be hiding such a softie

"you're too nice for your own good, Miller" You couldn't help but smile, softly kissing his cheek

He only grunted in response, losing himself in the scent and feel of you

"'m gonna have a talk with him Monday, I'll see what he has to say for himself"

You nodded, watching him closely

"that's a good idea" you murmured as you let him guide your mouth to his, impatiently kissing you as he'd dreamed of doing since he took the first step out of the house this morning.

You let him taste you, his tongue in your mouth and his beard against your skin, until you both needed air and had to lean away

But something seemed still off, usually, he only needed to feel your lips on his to forget all about his day, but today... today that little shadow in his eyes was still lurking in his iris

"baby" you pouted, your hands reaching for his cheeks to gently take his face in your hands "what can I do to make you feel better?"

And in retrospect, you didn't even know why you asked,

Your husband might have been a gentleman and a hard worker and everything else in this entire world... but he still was just a man.

A man that happened to love the taste of his wife more than anything on this earth

Which is why he didn't waste a moment before murmuring

"y'know what I need babydoll"

God but the way his voice always dropped an octave and that sweet southern drawl got more noticeable every time he needed you was more than enough to impregnate you all over again

"you're insatiable, Miller" you shook your head, laughing that light laugh of yours that made him feel summer breeze and sunshine all over him even on the coldest day of winter

But he didn't laugh, oh no, Joel Miller didn't laugh, he only looked at you, admired you, as you made your decision

"alright" you smiled, getting off his lap with a low groan, before laying on the couch, propping a pillow on the armrest so you could set your head on it to not have your belly cover the best part of the show, which of course, was your husband between your thighs.

just like he was now.

Good Christ and heaven all tougher did he look fucking hot like that,

his eyes fixed on your clothed core, his pupils big and dark with lust, his hands gripping the outside of your legs, his breathing almost as quick as yours...

His eyes found yours as his nose plummeted to your core, his nostrils flaring as he did what would make any woman self-conscious,( that was of course, if they weren't married to such a depraved and pussy obsessed man), he smelled you, he smelled you like you would with a good meal before devouring it, the tip of his nose ever so gently rubbing against your clit in the process.

You whimpered like you always did, and, like he always did, he only continued with his torture.

His tongue felt good even though the soaked material

"Joel" you whined now, as he licked slowly and thoroughly,

He resisted the urge to make you come like that, although he'd proved times and times before that he very well could,

he only stopped when there wasn't a spot on your underwear that wasn't drenched, and your chest was rising and falling faster than the speed of light

That, only that, was when his fingers reached for the fabric covering your core and pulled it to the side, his eyes falling to the work of art between your legs

he didn't say anything, he couldn't, he only groaned before he was devouring you whole

"oh my f-" you cried, your back arching from the couch as his hand seeped underneath your dress to get to your belly, his eyes finding yours again "f-fucking god baby"

He groaned again, his tongue drinking up everything you gave him, swirling over your clit over and over again, getting you utterly desperate just to tease you and fall to your hole, threatening to enter and forcing a gasp out of your mouth

your thighs squeezed around his head just like he liked it, robbing him of almost all oxygen as he buried his whole face into your weeping cunt.

"Joel- baby- p-please"

but he was back at sucking your clit, and all the words in your vocabulary got replaced by mindless, animalistic moans as one of your hands shot to his hair, gripping his hazel locks tightly as your hips started grinding onto his face, his nose, his mustache, his everything

And fuck if he didn't love it, if he didn't live to see you use him for your own pleasure, drenching his face and the couch beneath you with all your sweet juices as you whimpered and moaned what alternated between curses and his name with that irresistible desperate voice of yours.

Yeah, there was nothing that could ever beat this,

the feeling that he got every time you came apart like this was something that could have only been described as a glimpse of heaven, with the angels singing and everything too.

"f-fuck" he knew that high pitch cry, oh he knew it really fucking well "baby I-"

And you didn't even have to tell him, he already knew.

He continued feasting on your pussy, letting you chase your own high, and before you knew it, your head was thrown back and a wildfire of pleasure spread through your whole body, from your toes to the ends of your fucking hair.

You would have guessed you'd just run a marathon by how fast your heart was beating

"you're the most gorgeous woman on this planet" Joel murmured more to himself as he kissed the inside of your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, before crawling up to ghost your lips "with the sweetest fuking pussy too"

You could only let out a silly laugh before he kissed you, letting you have a taste of that sweetness.

But when you didn't feel him grind what you knew must have been a rock hard erection underneath his jeans, on your core like he usually did, you frowned, as you watched him sit up instead

"baby?" your forehead creased even more in puzzlement once you watched him undo his zipper and pull out his aching cock, not looking even remotely interested in making a move to position himself at your entrance

"what are you doing?" you finally asked, sitting up too now

He wrapped a hand around his dick as he answered

"You're still sore from this mornin'"

What does that have to do with anything?

"but-"

He shook his head, watching you closely with that honest care that he only showed you "no but" he declared "I don't wanna hurt you babygirl"

And although you would have liked to argue, you knew that since you'd gotten pregnant, his protective side had somehow gotten even more hard-headed, and changing his mind was damn near impossible, which is why what you did instead, was change the tactic

"I still have hands... or a mouth, you know?" you cocked an eyebrow, eyeing his manhood

You didn't miss the way his member twitched ever so little at the proposal,

but then again, he had always refused you going down on him since the pregnancy, not because he didn't want to, fuck- god only knew the unspeakable things he'd do to let that pretty mouth of yours take care of him, no, the reason was he simply didn't want you to go through all that just for him, for his insignificant pleasure.

"All you gotta do is just sit there and look pretty, sugar" he murmured, finally starting to stroke himself, groaning lowly as he did

Your breathing faltered at the image, his large hands fisting his cock hard, stroking up and down in a way that looked incredibly natural and incredibly intimate at the same time.

And even if he'd ignored your proposal, you couldn't help but smile before pressing a kiss to his neck, right where his pulse was fighting against his skin.

And while you did that, now softly peking every inch of skin not covered by his shirt, you started undoing the straps of your dress, letting them fall down with the top of it once you were done

"like this?" you asked, biting down a smirk as Joel let out a desperate moan at the image before him.

God your tits looked even fucking better now, so full, so soft, so- so fucking perfect

"sweet Jesus" he groaned, his eyes panning between your mouth and your boobs as his strokes got faster, more desperate

You felt his hand sneak up your body and finding your tits, grabbing at them softly, gently caressing each one with all the care and amazement in the word, until he was whispering, begging "fucking-come here" and pulled your mouth to his, leaving a wet, filthy kiss on your lips as he continued palming your front.

the sound from his work on his dick was obscene, but neither of you cared, especially when the words coming out of your mouth happened to be even obscene.

"You're close?" you asked, feeling his heavy breath fanning over your mouth

"yeah doll"

You kissed him again quickly before speaking

"come inside my mouth baby"

Again, Joel Miller might have been as incredible as you wanted... but he still remained only a man,

a man who had to fight with everything he had in himself not to bust his load right there

"Good fucking Christ-" he groaned, closing his eyes as he threw his head back "fuck me"

"I would if you'd let me" you joked, placing another kiss beneath his ear

He laughed softly, opening his eyes to find yours "you want me to come in your mouth sugar?"

"yes" you nodded without missing a beat "I need it" you cooed, stroking his beard as his breathing became more and more uneven, his cock on the verge of exploding

"I need you to fill me up baby, if not my pussy, my throat at least"

"fuck"

you always knew what to say to get him going

"fucking- damnit" he groaned, tugging hurriedly at his cock as he ordered you to "don't move- open your mouth" until he was kneeling beside you on the couch, grunting and moaning soft curses or that's it-good girl, looking down lovingly at you till his warm seed was filling your whole mouth.

It took him a moment to come back to life, to the real word, but before he knew it, you were kissing as he held you close to his chest.

"Feeling better?" you finally asked

"I don't even remember what I was mad about babydoll"

[killuintense]

leon and his lazy touches !

it's usually quite common to be in that position with Leon when you're both in bed. after a long day of work, both on his part and yours, you both end up lazily lying in bed not wanting to do much, just with your social battery completely discharged looking for silent company with each other with your bodies glued together providing warmth to each other.

this was more common than it seemed: him on his cell phone scrolling through the latest news, or memes with really bad jokes that made him giggle, and you watching silly relaxing videos on your cell phone. every once in a while one of you would leave the silence and show the other the cell phone. "oh my god, look at this video..." you'd say, or he'd put the phone in front of your face while laughing like a fool at some meme he got from the most neglected social network on the internet (facebook, from a group of older wives, all complaining about their husbands) but apparently that was the epitome of comedy for your boyfriend. and you sometimes made fun of him, or laughed more because of that complicity he had with you to show you anything and bother you, hiding in your neck while you made fun of his poor taste for humor. sometimes he would pout falsely and you would let him, ending up letting go of your cell phone and placing it on your chest to gently cuddle his hair until he fell asleep.

sometimes he was too immersed reading news on his cell phone, any shit about the current politics of the country, or about news from all over the world about the rulings of justice and those things that he was already so used to but that, beyond that, was what he was dedicated to and interested in. that's why he didn't notice the little tricks he had when his mind was wandering in another dimension. like he inevitably sought to be the big spoon, at all costs. he would hog your whole body with his body sticking his chest to your back as you cowered and followed without paying much attention to him. sometimes his free hand is on your butt, he loves to squeeze something while he's focused on something else, and sometimes your butt became his favorite stim toy. when that stops being enough, he reaches for your boobs.

you giggle, it's quite tender because it's not a sexual touch, at least not at that moment, but he does need to fondle them, knead them, gently scratch the moldable skin of your breasts and that relaxes you, you're not going to lie. it even makes you let out soft giggles when he puts down his cell phone and starts his light chats of what you did in the day... and his hand is still there. almost like marking territory with gentle squeezes that you let be, you know that was something he loved and relaxed him, and in your eyes, he deserved every little thing from you, just as you did from him. you couldn't deny it, especially when he squeezed your chest again and again under your shirt making you laugh while he kept chattering about his job. only then did he realize it and apologize, but he blatantly kept his hand. "it's just that they're soft..." he excused himself, kissing your hair and sinking into it enthusiastically.

your whole body was his temple of rest, he couldn't simply rest in bed if he didn't have you by his side. it was no use if he couldn't touch you, feel you, kiss you every time he wanted to. there was no need for them to talk, each one would be in his own little world for a while, but that habit of having your body next to him he would love for the rest of his life. because thanks to you, he can rest.

[klaus-littlestwolf]

would you make a Klaus fic, where he and reader are under a sex spell? just a sex magic fic, you can decide on the plot🥰

love your fics btw💕

Sex Pollen Spell -Klaus M.

Warning:Dubcon cause sex pollen, talk and use of sex toys, desperate/passionate fucking, needy Hybrid sex, brief realization of Yandere behavior at the end

‘You’re joking!’ I exclaimed, unable to unhear what Bonnie had just told me.

‘No, not at all. We need to keep you away from everyone else because this spell can potentially effect others who come in contact with you. Caroline has already said you can stay in her parents cabin, Damon is taking you there now.’ She shooed me out of the room and outside to Damon’s car.

‘Get in the back!’ He snapped as I moved to slide into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t need this shit effecting me next-‘

‘Why can’t I just stay in the cell in the basement? That way I won’t be alone…I’m scared-‘

‘Because Klaus was hit by that shit too, we don’t know if he knows what it was yet and with how desperate he is for you every other day without being bewitched, I can’t even imagine what he would do with you now.’ He explained as if I were a small stupid child and I wanted to hit him desperately.

A warlock coming after Elena (as always) for Doppelgänger blood for one of his spells had attacked us. I had grabbed a potted plant outside of the Grille and cracked it over his head which gave Elena enough time to run and find Damon, though as he whirled around to me there was suddenly an angry Hybrid standing in front of me which gave the Warlock pause.

Klaus had seemingly taken an interest in me as soon as he arrived in town and while I don’t encourage him, I’m also not cruel or mean either, which seemed to make him think he had a chance.

The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small spell bag before dumping some pink powder into his hand and blowing it at the both of us. I couldn’t help but inhale it, only breathing in more when I began choking and hearing Klaus do the same, my eyes and nose burning as I felt his hands holding onto me. Though he was still coughing himself he checked on me (which I found very sweet), hands on my face and inspecting me before brushing the powder off of me leading to me returning the favor. He had no clue what it was and neither did I but after a quick thanks I left to find my friends and a witch to tell me what the fuck I just inhaled.

Turns out we had both been choking on a very powerful potion that people had dubbed “Sex Pollen”. Many witches used to use it several hundred years ago but most stopped once people began insisting that it led to way too many people becoming effected (since all you needed to do was injest a drop) and ending up sexually assaulting whoever came across their path. The potion is typically in a liquid form but talented witches can make it in a powder, however it is about ten times more potent.

‘Stay here, theres food and water, TV, books. Everything you could possibly need. Caroline also bought you some…play things…to help. God this is so gross, they’re in the bedroom. Get out of my car-‘

‘No! How long do I have to stay here?!’ I snapped making him roll his eyes.

‘Bonnie said in the powder form it can take several hours to kick in but it lasts a few days, though with how much you breathed in probably a week at least. Go! Before you infect me too and we really have a problem!’ I grabbed the bag that Elena had packed me and slid out of the car, walking inside and locking the door behind me with a heavy sigh.

‘Fuck All Of You Assholes!’ I screamed, hating my friends for abandoning me just so they wouldn’t suffer as well before I looked around the cabin, finding the bedroom with a large California King that was quite comfortable. I also came across a basket on the bed which contained a rechargeable wand, a 7 inch pink suction cup dildo, a butt plug and a bottle of salted caramel flavored lube. ‘Why The Fuck Was She So Thorough?!’

I set the basket aside and stripped out of my shirt and jeans as I began feeling warm, climbing into the bed under the sheet and deciding to try and take a nap before I get hit with killer horniness.

The nap didn’t last more than an hour before I woke up rolling around restlessly, my body sweating now as a hot feeling in my stomach began intensifying. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there writhing in misery before I heard a loud knock at the door, instantly hating the world that much more.

‘What are you doing here?!’ I snapped as I finally dragged myself to the front door, moody and uncomfortable which made me unable to be kind.

‘I thought I would come and assist you. Wouldn’t want you suffering through this alone, now would we?’ Klaus asked, looking every bit as put together as always but I could see in his eyes how desperate he was. I could also see his impressive bulge tenting his jeans.

‘How did you find me? I was-never mind. Go away Klaus!’ I groaned, moving to shut the door.

‘I followed Damon, he wasn’t very careful, my guess is he didn’t much care if I found you. They just wanted you away from them before they had to suffer too, your friends that you protected sent you away to save themselves. Seems really selfish to me.’ Any other day I would disagree but with how I was feeling I couldn’t argue with him, prompting me to agree.

‘You’re right…Fuck them! Couldn’t even put me downstairs! Had to leave me all alone!’ I raged as I was overcome by a cramping pain straight down to my pussy causing me to double over.

‘Invite me in Love, let’s help each other? It’s going to be days with only brief hours of relief between…let me help you get some relief?’

‘Klaus, I can’t-‘

‘You want me just as much as I want you, don’t lie!’ He growled, eyes glowing gold now as he showed how desperate he really was, so far gone that he wasn’t able to hide it anymore.

‘It’s just this stupid magic-‘

‘No! No, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and you…you need me too.’ His hand reached down to grab his crotch, pupils nearly swallowing his entire eye whole. ‘I can make your pussy feel so good baby, you need me! Who else could go anywhere near as long as a Hybrid, huh?’ He was right, if anyone could help me it was Klaus, especially with how pent up he is himself. ‘Please Y/n? I need to be buried in your little cunt, and you know you need it too! Your fingers can’t help you the way my cock can and I know you’ve dreamt of my cock in your needy little pussy since long before this ever happened-Fuck! I Need You! Please?!’ He begged and as I felt a rush of wetness coat my panties I whined, nodding my head. ‘Say it Y/n…Say It!’

‘Come in Klaus! Please?! I need-‘ I didn’t get to finish my statement before I was tackled to the floor with the Hybrid yanking his pants open and shoving them down enough to free himself before tearing my panties off of my body and shoving himself into me roughly.

‘So Fucking Perfect! Knew your cunt would be perfect! Tightest little cunt-Fuck! Never gonna stop fucking you baby!’

‘Yes! Don’t Stop! Fuck Klaus, your cock! So good!’ Tears leaked from my eyes as he continued thrusting into my body. The sound of skin slapping together echoing through the house and out the front door that hung on one hinge from where the Hybrid had nearly ripped it off as he entered. ‘Oh Fuck!’ I threw my head back against the carpet as my first orgasm rushed through me out of nowhere, only realizing he had finished with me when I felt the hot cum inside of me as he continued thrusting, never once even slowing down.

‘I need to feel you squeeze me again Babygirl, cum for me! Cum for your Alpha!’ The second orgasm was just as strong as the first as I came and felt his body tense up as well before he finally stilled, breathing heavily into my neck.

‘I think…we’re in trouble…’ I panted heavily and he chuckled before looking down at me, hesitating only a second before pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lovely kiss. ‘Don’t stop.’ I insisted when he pulled back, grabbing onto his neck and pressing my lips to his this time as I enjoyed our kiss.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, I wanted to take you on a date, show you how much I love you…then I was going to fuck you…wanted to make you feel so good you would never leave me again-‘

‘It’s okay, you’ve just done it backwards…you can still take me out, just after this is over because I don’t think people would appreciate you fucking me over our table.’ I teased, enjoying the genuine smile that I got from him, only ever seeing it when he looks at me which has always made me feel special.

‘That’s the spell talking-‘

‘I liked you before that you idiot! I just never really thought you were all that serious.’ I admitted, pushing him up and feeling his (once again) hard cock slide out of me as he helped me stand up.

‘How could you think that? I’ve gone out of my way to show you-your friends told you I was using you, didn’t they?’ I nodded and he huffed a heavy sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a rough kiss. ‘I love you, regardless of any doppelgänger or your awful friends. After all of this I will take you out properly, I promise…but until then-‘

‘No! No more floor fucking, there’s furniture and a bed here for a reason, no more carpet, it hurts.’ I explained, feeling the rug burn against my back and ass.

‘No more rugs, but I need you now.’ He growled, lifting me by my thighs and appearing in the bedroom instantly, dropping me onto the bed. Just as he spread my legs he paused, glancing over to the table and reaching out to grab the basket with the things Caroline had left. ‘What-‘

‘Caroline left them for me. I guess she wanted to help me since I’m all alone.’

‘Interesting…does she know you well, or not?’ He wondered, picking up the butt plug and raising his eyebrows making me blush as my body started sweating.

‘Klaus! Stop the teasing and get inside me! The cramps are starting, so if you’re not going to help me then get the Fuck out and I’ll do it my-Ah!’ I cried out, feeling the rounded end of the plug pressing to my tight hole and rubbing against it. ‘Oh God!’ Klaus took the lube bottle and squeezed a healthy amount onto the plug before tossing it to the other side of the bed and pressing it back against my ass.

‘Relax Precious, this is going to make it feel so much better!’ He promised, pushing the plug harder until it popped into my hole. Klaus could feel his cock throbbing even harder at the sight of the jewel on the end of the plug. ‘You are so fucking perfect! How do you fee-‘

‘Klaus! Please?!’ I begged, pulling him closer and yanking at his shirt before getting it off and sighing in relief at the feel of his hot skin against mine.

Klaus shoved his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, finally naked as well before taking hold of his cock and pushing himself back inside of me. ‘There you are love, feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Both of your slutty little holes stuffed up?’

‘T-Too much-Never-‘

‘Never been so full before, I know Baby! I-Fuck!’ Suddenly as if he could no longer control himself he began thrusting into me frantically. ‘Mine! My Fucking Cunt!’ He snarled, Hybrid visage taking over as he fucked into me so hard I briefly wondered if he could shatter my pelvis like this.

‘Yes! Yours! All yours, don’t stop! Please don’t stop?!’

Y/n couldn’t have said how long Klaus continued like that. How long he thrust into her cunt at a painful speed, how many times the both of them had climaxed together while he still continued to fuck his (somehow still) hard cock into her, she couldn’t even say how many times he had buried his fangs into her throat in an effort to mark her as his like a werewolf marking his mate…and maybe he was. Odds are she was never getting away from him now-not that she wanted to.

It was a week later that Damon finally came back to the house to check on her finding the front door ripped open.

He ventured inside, not hearing anything and figuring that it was over for Y/n and who was inevitably Klaus that had torn the door off the hinges. He was prepared with jokes galore for the the drive back, excited to pick on the young girl for giving into the monster that had been after her for months but sadly he never got to use those jokes.

Damon opened the door to the bedroom to find his girlfriends friend snuggled into Klaus Mikaelson’s naked chest fast asleep. The Hybrid however seemed to have awoken as soon as he turned the doorknob, his yellow eyes finding his with an intensity that he had never seen. He bore his fangs, lifting his head and Damon (one of the only people who had never truly feared Klaus Mikaelson) was instantly terrified. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, alarm bells ringing in his head declaring the danger that he is in prompting him to throw up his hands instantly. As Klaus moved to sit up, the young vampire shut the door promptly and hightailed it back to his car, peeling back down the driveway.

He doesn’t know how long that stuff will take to wear off but it definitely hasn’t yet and he would not be disturbing them again!

Y/n and Klaus were in the house for nearly 2 weeks before they felt as if their bodies were back to normal though they stayed for another week after that. No one could have imagined how close such a spell would bring them…no one except Klaus of course.

The witch he had hired to make that powder had done a wonderful job, money well spent in the Hybrids mind. The spell had worked better than he ever could have imagined and it had gotten him exactly what he wanted.

The only thing left to do was to kill the witch that had helped him and ensure that his mate never learned that he was the one who had dosed her.

He finally had his girl, he couldn’t let something so trivial ruin it.

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : THE FACE BEHIND THE MASK : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Wade Wilson x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: After months of dating Wade Wilson, you ask him to show his face, promising that his scars won't change your love. Despite his fears, Wade reveals himself, and you reassure him that he is beautiful just the way he is.

LIVING NEXT TO WADE WILSON HAD ALWAYS BEEN AN ADVENTURE. From the random explosions at odd hours (he called them "enthusiastic cooking attempts") to the incessant chatter that came from his side of the paper-thin walls, there was never a dull moment. Somehow, despite all the madness, you'd become fast friends. He’d wormed his way into your life with his never-ending supply of sarcasm, absurd humor, and unexpected kindness.

And then, somehow, you’d started dating. It wasn't the conventional type of dating—nothing was conventional with Wade. He’d whisk you away on spontaneous adventures that ranged from fighting ninjas ("It's like cardio, but with more blood!") to watching rom-coms while he provided his own colorful commentary.

But there was one thing that had never happened in those months. You had never seen his face. Sure, you'd seen his mouth, his jaw, the occasional glimpse of his eyes through the mask, but never the whole thing. He was always careful to keep the mask on, only slipping it off when he was sure you weren't looking.

At first, you hadn't pushed it. You knew about his past, the pain he'd endured, and how self-conscious he was about his appearance. But as your feelings for him deepened, so did your curiosity. It wasn't just about seeing the man behind the mask—it was about connecting with him fully, scars and all.

One night, after a particularly wild date that ended with Wade hog-tying a group of particularly rude henchmen ("They were asking for it! Literally, they asked if I could teach them some knots!"), you both collapsed on your bed, breathless and laughing.

"Wade," you said, once your giggles had subsided. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, but if it's about why I wear red, the answer is 'because it hides the bloodstains.' And also, it makes my butt look fantastic."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, it’s not that. I was just wondering... why don’t you ever show me your face?"

The room grew quiet, the only sound the faint hum of traffic outside. Wade’s usual banter was noticeably absent, and you could sense the shift in his mood.

"Oh, you know," he began, his tone a little too casual, "it’s just that I’m devastatingly handsome, and I don’t want you to fall even more in love with me. Also, there’s the possibility that you’ll look at me and your eyes will literally explode from the sheer beauty. It’s a risk, really. For your safety."

You reached out, gently placing your hand on his. "Wade, I know you're joking, but I also know this is hard for you. I don’t care about your scars. I care about you."

He hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. "I just... I don’t want you to see me and then regret everything. I’m not exactly Ryan Reynolds under here."

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. "Well, good, because I’m not exactly Blake Lively."

He snorted, finally looking at you. "She wishes she was as cool as you."

Taking a deep breath, Wade sat up and reached for the edge of his mask. "Okay, but if you scream, I'm outta here. And I’m taking all the pizza."

"I promise not to scream," you said, your voice soft. "And I’m keeping the pizza."

With a final sigh, Wade peeled off the mask, revealing the man beneath it. His face was covered in scars, the skin rough and uneven, a far cry from the smooth, unblemished look he used to have. His eyes, however, were the same—warm, mischievous, and full of vulnerability.

You didn’t say anything at first, just took him in. Then, slowly, you reached out, tracing the lines of his face with your fingers. He flinched at first, but as you continued, his muscles began to relax.

"You’re beautiful," you whispered, meaning every word.

Wade rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "Sure, if by 'beautiful' you mean 'looks like an avocado had a passionate affair with a much older, uglier avocado.'"

You laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "No, I mean you’re beautiful because you’re you. And I love you. All of you."

For a moment, Wade was silent, his usual stream of jokes and quips nowhere to be found. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it. "You really mean that?"

"I do."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "Well, in that case, I guess you’re stuck with me. Scars, bad jokes, and all."

"Wouldn’t have it any other way."

You spent the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. As you traced the lines of his face, memorizing every scar, Wade made a few more self-deprecating jokes, but they lacked the usual sting. Instead, they were softer, more playful, as if he was finally starting to believe that you could see beyond the surface.

As the night went on, your hands continued their gentle exploration, and Wade's breathing grew steady and calm. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly at peace, his heart no longer burdened by the fear of rejection.

And as you lay there, his head resting against your chest, you knew that no matter what, you would always find him beautiful—because beauty, you realized, was more than skin deep.

I fucking LOVE Wade!

I’m going to make a taglist for deadpool content! If you like to be added, let me know! 🫶

[peachetteprice]

How it Should Be | Captain John Price

John, your husband of nine years - coming up on the big decade - who still grows pink in the face when you tap his arse and call him handsome.

He just can't quite believe it.

He knows he must be somewhat attractive because he landed you - and by God that was not an easy feat, concealing how ardently he pined for you in that dimly-lit Spoons in the centre of Hereford - despite how your brother, who joined you every time because it was the only way you could ever see John, and vice versa - had been his friend since John was twenty-five and your brother, twenty-two; he worked at the classic car garage in Leominster that John frequented to keep mint his Ford Cortina - but regardless of all of the strife he underwent to secure you as his beloved wife, he still finds himself biting back a form of childish embarrassment that forces his bottom lip between his teeth as you profess over a glass of wine just how gorgeous he is, right now, in his underwear, sipping that pitcher of beer because he ran out of Scotch.

In every other respect, he's the most stoic man you've ever met. But if you ever catch him in the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom, even outside in the garden and coo extravagantly about how stunning he looks, whether he be elbow-deep in grease doing the dishes, fixing his belt around his jeans early in the morning, grooming his beard before the mirror or de-weeding the patio outside, he will undoubtedly become bashful to the extent of personal ridicule, rolling his eyes or slamming his palm on the sink to exclaim that he is not, in fact, as 'beautiful' as you seem to think he is.

It's only partly a joke, but the majority of one of those parts leans towards the serious truth, which is most disconcerting, and half the reason why you spend so much of your precious time trying to convince him that he is, in fact, the most beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, handsome man you've ever laid eyes upon.

And, yes, you may be biased, because you get this one all to yourself, and no other woman can say they frequently bed a man who puts as much effort into pistoning his cock deep within you or tongueing you until you're bone-dry in thirty-Celsius weather as he does - even if the sweat on the bedsheets is beginning to pool at an alarming rate - simply because he wants you to feel loved, irreverent of his own comfort.

Oftentimes, as he is, said, knee-deep within you, you'll take him by the scalp and guide him to your neck, urging him to press his weight against you - exactly as you know he loves - just so you have him in lock and key, knowing he's unable to go anywhere until he cums, and you can - finally - whine into his neck about how handsome he is, and watch as he can do nothing but soak it in, too busy panting, grunting and blushing to respond. His face, his body, his voice, his personality, his tact, his pubic hair rutting against your clit - his everything. It's all perfect. And you'd sooner die than live in a world where he doesn't believe so.

It's why you've since taken your dedication to greater heights, explicitly professing your love for your husband in front of his boys whenever they come around, so John (and them) can see it isn't just an elaborate plot to ensure he puts his empty cereal bowl away in the dishwasher as soon as he finishes his breakfast in the morning, or to get him to wipe the crumbs from the toaster when the crumb tray gets too full, or clean the cigar ash from the ashtray on the dining room table - that he says he'll 'get round to' after he finishes his mountain of paperwork, which you know is false because it would take him weeks to climb.

It's really to make way for a kiss and a ruffle of his hair here, a hug and a grope of his butt there - just enough to let him know that, regardless of company, you think he's the most irresistible hunk of man in the room.

And, sure, the first few times are a little awkward for all of you, the boys included, as they feel they've encroached on something that best be left behind closed doors, but Kyle and Johnny - never Simon - swiftly come around to the notion that you showing your affection openly to John is a wondrous thing (Kyle truly thought, prior to then, that there might have been marrital troubles; he'd never even seen you two so much as kiss) and Johnny goes so far, himself, as to 'awh', whenever you peck John's lips, pinch his beard and call him 'cute', even if Johnny does get a sturdy bollocking from your husband back at base - it's oh-so worth it to see his Captain still madly in love after nine (almost ten) years of marriage!

And it feels like you've carried to full-term and subsequently birthed a healthy baby when you wake up to the sound of gushing water from the bathroom, to see John pat beard oil into his facial hair, stop, assess himself in the mirror, then mutter 'yeah, not bad', because Christ, it'd finally paid off.

| Masterlist |

[jezabelle9299]

Broken Lungs S.R x FEM!Reader

CWs- Spoilers for season 5, depictions of asthma and use of a nebulizer, mentions of gunshot wounds, and health insurance not covering necessary medication.

Quick Infodump- Oxygen saturation levels should be 95-100%, lower than 93% should seek immediate help from a healthcare professional, and lower than 85% can cause severe damage to the brain because of a lack of oxygen.

Overture: Spencer is recovering from the knee surgery he needed after being shot in the field, when he sees a familiar face in the hospital being treated for an asthma attack.

A/N- This is based on my own experience with asthma, but it's different for everyone, so the relatability may vary with this one. But I was stuck at home all day because of an air quality alert so I did this instead of getting ready for the semester that starts in two weeks.

After one of his worst days in the field, Spencer ended the day in a hospital bed unable to walk. Hotch had been stabbed, and he had been shot. Both would be ok, and they were in separate hospitals to recover. The team alternated who would come to visit, and when. It usually took until the nurses kicked them out at the end of visiting hours, for them to actually leave. 

It’d been 2 days since his surgery, and the nurses had given him permission to walk around with his brace, on crutches. He’d never used them before, so he walked around the floor to the nurses’ station to get some more jell-o, and then around the hall back to his room. He allowed his curiosity (or nosiness) to get the better of him, occasionally glancing in at the people with their doors open, giving them a small smile or wave. Until he saw a familiar face. 

You’d worked for the FBI for a few years, working on the same floor as the BAU, but you weren’t in the field. You were sitting up in a hospital bed, playing solitaire in one hand, holding what looked like an oxygen mask to your face with the other. You looked up when you felt his eyes on you, and there he was, trapped in the doorway. You’d think you were hallucinating if not for the brace on his knee, and the crutches he was propping himself up on. He didn’t move from the threshold until you gave him a small wave, jumpstarting his movement into your room. 

You’d heard about Hotch’s incident, but you weren’t in the office yesterday, and since Spencer’s injury happened later in the day, you had no idea why he was here. You pulled the mask spraying (terrible tasting) medicine into your lungs from your face. You could stop for 30 seconds to see what he was here for. 

“Hey Spencer, what–um, what brings you here?” He hesitated, because you’d know since the 5th floor of the FBI building was the most gossip-ridden place he’d seen since high school. Yet he had no idea you’d be here. It’s not even as if you never talked, whenever he was in the office he’d stop by your desk to talk to you. He figured that you hadn’t gotten tired of him yet because he was gone a lot, although in reality you’d never tire of hearing his voice.

“I got shot in the knee, I’ll be fine, the real question is why are you here?” You’re sure it’s on government record, something Garcia could find in two minutes if she looked, but you still didn’t like talking about it. You knew it was stupid to be embarrassed of it, but you couldn’t help it. Every time it got brought up, you felt like the dorky character in a movie carting around their inhaler all the time, the butt of some cosmic joke. 

You preferred to think of it as an inconvenience more than anything. It didn’t come up often because you weren’t in the field, and when you needed to use an inhaler, you measured your breathing long enough to get to an empty bathroom or supply closet. You’d just blame the jitters that came after on too much coffee, and no one would ask any questions. This time, the inhaler wasn’t working, the next step in medication, a small machine similar to what you were supposed to be hooked up to now, wasn’t working either. So you drove to the ER feeling like you’d just run 10 miles, and they were making you stay 36 hours to give you stronger medication in intervals. 

“No reason.” You didn’t know why you even bothered with that response. Neither did Spencer, tossing you an apathetic look. He knew how squeamish you got when attention was drawn to something that made you look vulnerable, which is why he let it slide every time you walked into a supply closet looking flushed and panicked, with a soundtrack accompanying every time you took a breath, only to come out 5 minutes later with no supplies. 

 “Ok, really? Why would you even try it, you’re hooked up to a nebulizer and your oxygen saturation is at 90. What happened?” He was using the tone he only ever broke out for interrogations and proving Morgan wrong, but you still wanted to minimize the attention drawn to this not so glamorous piece of your life. You wanted Spencer to see you as someone he could date, even someone he could love, so this was not ideal to the image you’d been trying to show at work. 

“I have gross broken lungs. It’s really no big deal.” He laughed, but there was minimal humor behind it. Like he couldn’t even fathom you thinking this was ‘no big deal’. 

“I would venture to say you being in the hospital because you were unable to breathe is a very big deal.” While you loved when Spencer got a little bit cocky, you decided it would be more fun to make the little vein in his forehead appear again. So you tossed a vague shrug.

“Well I’d say getting shot is a much bigger deal. So why don’t you sit down, eat your jello, and tell me what happened to you, while I finish this thing.” He couldn’t argue with that, because at the very least he wanted you to feel better and the medicine currently going to waste while you were talking was the only way to accomplish that, so he relented. 

He didn’t want to move your things to the floor, but they were occupying the only chair in the room, so he made himself comfortable at the foot of your bed. He always wanted to be closer to you anyway. Setting his crutches next to him and opening the small cup of jello he’d somehow been holding this whole time, he reiterated his answer from before. 

“I told you already, I got shot in the knee, went into surgery, and now other than having to use these crutches for a while, I’m fine. Just need to spend a little longer in recovery before I can go back home to minimize the risk of infection.” He took a bite of jell-o just as a show of finality, like there was nothing more to say. Like a gunshot wound was not a huge deal. 

The whirr of the machine started to slow down, the medicine sputtering instead of coming out in a steady steam, meaning you could finally be done. You set it on the table by the bed, right next to your abandoned game of solitaire, and as soon as you set it down Spencer’s attention was back on your wellbeing. 

“Ok your turn, what happened?” 

“I’ve had asthma since I was a kid, and I just got unlucky today. It’s always worse this time of year, and my inhaler wasn’t really doing anything for me. Our health insurance plan doesn’t cover the more expensive meds unless I’m in the hospital, so here I am, for the next 36 hours.” You made a point to turn your exasperated expression into a cheesy smile, hoping to convince him to stay for just a little while longer.  “But the bright side is that since you're here I don’t have to play solitaire anymore. That was getting old fast.” You grabbed the cards, giving them a quick shuffle.

“So what do you say Vegas, are you up for a round of poker?” You hoped that would distract him from fussing over you, and luckily it did. He was satisfied you were ok, and the last thing he wanted was to push you too far, and for you to ask him to leave. So he let the smile take over his face. 

“Always. But i'm not going to go easy on you just because of your- what did you call them- broken lungs?” That got a good laugh out of you. Admittedly wheezy, but still one of the most beautiful sounds in the world to him. 

“Gross, broken lungs. And I wouldn’t dream of it.” You dealt the cards, already knowing you’d lose. You didn’t even know how to play poker. But word around the office was that most of your coworkers wouldn’t play with him since he always won. But you didn’t mind, you mostly just wanted someone to hang out with, and you were overjoyed that person was Spencer. He won, of course. Only gloating a little bit at how badly he beat you, and while you were dealing the second round of cards, you couldn’t help but vocalize what had been in the back of your mind for a few minutes now. 

“Hey Spencer, could I ask you a favor?” He had a mix of worry and willingness to help all over his face. 

“Anything.”

“Could you–not tell anyone in the office? Just. You know how they are, they would make a fuss about the whole hospital thing and it’s just not necessary.” 

“Where do they think you’re going to be for the next day and a half?”

You looked down like a kid who just got caught in a lie. “I kind of told Hotch I had a cold.” Spencer just sighed in response. 

“I really do think you should let them fuss over you. You deserve it, and you know Penelope lives for that sort of thing.” That you couldn’t deny, no matter how much you disagreed with him saying you deserved to be cared for. 

“Please, Spencer?” 

“Alright, but they might walk past your room in the morning. Garcia said she was coming, and you know she’ll drag at least one person along with her.” 

“Noted. I’ll close the door in the morning. Thank you Spencer, seriously, it means a lot.” You put your hand over his and it felt like every thought he’d ever had was gone from his brain at your touch. He couldn’t believe his dumb luck at meeting someone like you. Just to be in your orbit, to see and know you, felt like it could only be accomplished by divine intervention. Selfishly, he wished that you’d be staying a little longer, so that you could both leave together. Even more selfishly, he wished that you would leave with him, and come to his apartment. There he could take care of you, make you feel special until he could finally convince you that you deserved it. Deserved everything. 

You moved your hand to start tapping it on your leg, and while Spencer knew the side effects of respiratory steroids, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was wrong. That maybe he did something wrong. 

“Is there something on your mind?” 

“No, it’s just the jitters. I used to get them so bad when I was a kid, my parents would have to practically hold me down. It’s like I have the energy to run a mile, but I can’t actually do it. I’ll calm down in a bit, but I’m probably going to get really rambly first.” 

“I’d love to listen to you talk, and I love being on the other side of a ramble.” It was just then that a nurse came in to ask if you were feeling better, charting your vials,  reminding you that you need to take your next dose in 4 hours, and telling you that an orderly would be in to set it up then.

Just when she was getting ready to leave she turned her attention to Spencer. “I’m sorry, but I am going to need you to go back to your room Dr. Reid. You both need to get some rest.”

He reluctantly told her that he would and just as soon as he’d come in, he disappeared again. He gave you a wave when he was gathering his crutches, but no real goodbye. You of course waved back, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You really liked him, and you thought maybe he really liked you too. And yet, he only gave you a wave. 

All of the adrenaline moving through you, getting you all worked up finally won out, and stupid as it may sound, tears started to prick the corners of your eyes. Just as you closed the door to your room to get some privacy while you cried, your phone started to ring, and you couldn’t help but think; What now? You answered it without looking, and on the other side of the line was the person you wanted to hear from the most. 

“So what did you want to talk about? I have all the time in the world.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Adeuce + Onee-san!Yuu Headcanons

I THINK THEY’D BOTH BE INTO ONEE-SANS… cuz Ace is the bratty one that wants attention and Deuce is into being praised for his accomplishments 💀 Even worse if both of them are crushing on the same onee-san and butt heads every day about it.

Please note: due to the nature of the scenario, these headcanons could read as gendered (since “onee-san” means "big sister") even though I avoid the use of gendered pronouns for the reader/self insert in my writing and just generally allude to the concept of the "onee-san" trope (someone who is reliable, kind, and mature). Read at your own discretion.

Curiouser and Curiouser…

Ace is totally the type of guy that mercilessly teases the person he has a crush on, and that's really no different when it comes to you. He sees it like a challenge, to see how fast he can break you and get you cutely begging him to stop--but to his surprise, you hold your own and push back, scolding him for his attitude and lip. He blinks as you finish your lecture and turn to walk off, not registering the heat of his gaze following you.

The teasing continues regardless, of course. He doesn't let up on it, always coming up with some clever new excuse whenever you respond. With (fake) watery eyes, Ace will claim you're BULLYING your innocent little kouhai, don't you feel any shame or remorse? Oh, and he gets jealous if others tease you—because only he’s allowed to do that, got it?

He doesn't flinch at all when you scold him (In fact, he thinks it's kind of cute how you get all stern and pouty) Ace will taunt you and egg you on ("What're you gonna do, tell my mom?"). May or may not also include him cheekily sticking his tongue out at you.

The number one thing he makes fun of you about is your kindness. He often tells you that you're TOO nice, and that someday it may come back to bite you in the ass, or someone might try to take advantage of that kindness. "Luckily for you, I'm a nice guy too, so I wouldn't mess with you like that."

Ace is handsy. He'll casually lean on your shoulder or even rest his head on top of yours (if you're short enough for that kind of thing). It's fine between "just friends", right?

If you ignore him (or he feels like you're giving more attention to Grim or Deuce than to him), he gets all clingy, whining about how you next hang out anymore or why did you leave his text on read? Ace tries to invite you out as nonchalantly as he can (he doesn't want to come off as desperate).

"How about that burger place in town? What? Nooo, it's not a date, dummy! It’s just a joke. Unless…?" He typically phrases private outings with him as unserious, if only to keep a route of plausible deniability open for himself to escape with if you indicate you're not really into it.

Pesters you to come watch his basketball games. Constantly. When you do finally show up, he waves excitedly, winks, and tries to dedicate a shot to you in an attempt to look cool. (Unfortunately, the ball bounces off the rim and makes him look incredibly pathetic. Floyd gets a good laugh out of this.)

Every time Riddle collars him or punishes him with extra chores, Ace asks you to comfort him. He'll dramatically lean against you and lament how life has been SO unfair to him lately, so he'd for real appreciate a shoulder to cry on or maybe a lap to rest on right about now~

He pretends to not understand class material as an excuse to ask for "one-on-one" tutoring. Since you're sooo smart and kind, you'll definitely help him, won't you? As you're explaining how to solve this equation or the next, Ace is too busy staring at your profile to really pay attention. You ask if he gets it now, and it takes him a few seconds to snap back to reality and insist to you that he does, but juuust to make sure he gets it maybe you could explain it all again!

Whenever you pack a homemade lunch, Ace is the first to ask for a bite. Well, not ask but more like he announces he wants some before he steals a bite right off of your eating utensil. He'll then make some cheeky comment about how it's an indirect kiss. In return, he shares his own snacks (which suspiciously look like unbirthday party cakes he swiped from the fridge, but shhhh, don't tell Riddle!).

Every time Ace dresses up or buys some new article of clothing, he makes a show of wearing it. Like this guy will wear the luxury sunglasses Vil gifted him for his birthday INDOORS or on the back of his head hoping it'll bait you into noticing and then complimenting him.

Ace claims that you're "soooo obsessed with [him'" since you're always "chasing [him] like a lovesick puppy" and "looking for excuses to talk with [him]". In reality, you follow him around and talk with him to nag him and keep him in line, but Ace frames it a certain way because he's delusional to mess with you. "Geez, if you want me that badly, then just say so~"

You try your best to keep him out of trouble, but there are instances in which you end up roped into his shenanigans and both of you are punished for it. Detention isn't exactly a very romantic spot to be in, but Ace makes use of every moment of it to hog you for himself. "Hey, don't make that long face. It's not so bad—least you've got me here to keep you company."

He sometimes brings up his ex to complain about how needy she was (the irony of Ace saying that is not lost on you) and implicitly brag about how he has sooo much experience with dating. He'll then bring the attention to you. "I don't get it, what was she looking for in a guy? She said I was way too immature for her. How about you, Prefect? Do you get it? Immature guys... do you like that kind of thing?" Ace thinks he's slick but he ain't--

Unlike Ace, Deuce does his best to try and not cause trouble for you to clean up after. He also joins you in telling Ace off, to which Ace will call him a "goody two shoes" and accuse him of "sucking up to Prefect". Deuce adamantly denies it, but his frenemy's words still fluster him.

Deuce is very polite to you and even greets you with a bow. He sees you as someone deserving of respect because of how responsible you are—you're modelling the very thing he aspires to be someday! Your encouraging presence fills him with a drive and determination to be better.

Having someone like you around makes Deuce try really, really hard to demonstrate how mature he can be. He pulls off these herculean feats (like forcing himself to eat bell peppers without gagging or solving a basic arithmetic problem correctly in under 5 minutes). It’s all worth it when he sees that proud smile blooming on your face and hears the cheery “Good job!!” from you.

Deuce usually keeps a respectable distance (to keep things professional between peers!). However, he completely freezes up if any scenarios arise where you touch him—be it an accidental brush of your shoulder and his while you're walking to class together or you plucking a fallen leaf or petal out of his air. His face turns about as red as his dorm leader's and he hurriedly runs way ahead of you to cool off.

The worst of it is when you adjust your clothes for him (it puts you in very close proximity) or when you pat him on the head and shower him with praise. Deuce doesn't know how to react to receiving such earnest compliments, he just melts like putty in your hands, happily basking in the moment.

In spite of all of his efforts, his grades don't see much of an improvement. Seeing his frustration, you offer to tutor him, which Deuce graciously accepts. It doesn't occur to him until he's actually in that tutoring session that this is a private time for the two of you, and suddenly he's struggling to focus because wow, you're so close and your hand is centimeters away from his. Instead of thinking about math, he's thinking about what it would feel like to reach out and hold you. Stupid, stupid! he scolds himself. D-Don't think about weird things like that!

Deuce doesn't have a lot of pocket money, but he offers to share his food with you anyway. (He knows you're carefully budgeting your monthly allowance from the headmaster, so you can't afford to spend much on treats.) He'll break off half of his chocolate bar or dessert bread, but drinks are harder to share. His face burns at the suggestion of sharing a straw—isn't that technically an indirect kiss?—but he tries to pretend like he's not nervous (even as his hand trembles terribly as he accepts the juice carton from you to take a sip of his own).

There are times when you find him a little bruised and beat up, whether it’s the result of a brawl or an intense workout. Deuce will insist that he’s fine, but that doesn’t stop you from personally tending to him. He’s dead quiet as he watches you disinfect and bandage his injuries, heat climbing to his cheeks. When you ask if it hurts anymore, he softly replies “… No.” Not when you’re here with me.

Deuce frequently tells his mom about you when they speak over the phone. He says that you’re an amazing person with a big heart, rambling on and on about how you care about everyone and always support them. His mom listens for a while before laughing and telling Deuce he’s definitely got a crush and that she’d love to meet this person that has stolen her son’s heart. Of course, he gets embarrassed and claims she’s wrong, he just really admires you, that’s all!! (But a mother knows best…)

Deuce is easily flustered whenever you call him “cute”. He tends to keep his mouth shut and let you gush as you please, but one day he manages to find his voice and protests. "P-Please don't tease me like that, Prefect..." Deuce mutters, his gaze cutting to the ground. “I… I want you to see me as a man.” Someone you can rely on.

Deuce tells you that if you’re ever in need of help—or if people are giving you trouble—then all you have to do is call him. He’ll come running to your side, lend a hand, fend off the bullies, whatever you need. He knows he can depend on you, so he should also be the type of person you can depend on.

It’s hard for him to get a grip on his delinquent side if he feels like you’re in danger. That mixture of concern, protectiveness, and upset drives him wild—he doesn’t even realize he has relapsed until he has rushed over to check on you and notices the alarm set in your eyes. I’ve gone and done it again, he panics. They’re disappointed in me.

… But you embrace Deuce warmly, thanking him, peppering him with reassurances, inspecting him for any signs of harm. He’s flooded with relief, allowing himself to sink into your arms and breathe in your comforting smell.

Deuce appreciates it when you make time to go to his Track and Field Club meets and cheer him on. He sprints like the wind to see you at the finish line. You’re smiling, with a water bottle, a wet towel, and a snack in hand to reward him for his hard work. Deuce’s clubmates snicker and tease him about it, but he doesn’t let that get to him—he’s too busy riding the adrenaline high that is you.

He’s not shameless unlike Ace, who pretty much automatically clocks his feelings. Deuce struggles a lot with coming to terms with how he feels about you, wondering if he’s “good enough” to be near you, to like you in the capacity that he does, to push these emotions onto you. He kicks himself, calling it spineless and cowardly to not gather his courage and just blurt it out already—but he’s scared of breaching your friendship. “Hey, Is this okay…?” Is it okay for me to like you like this?

[xiao-come-home]

PLEASE PLEASE PPLLLEEEAAAASE GIVE ME HEADCANONS OF BOOTHILL WITH AN INSECURE CHUBBY S/O. I KNOW THIS MAN WOULD SHOW EXTRA LOVE AND KILL ANYONE WHO MAKES FUN OF HIS BELOVED

Oh wow hehe twirls hair did you just call me out in this ask because its so me 🧐 some are a little sugg/estive but yea, you ask and I shall deliver 🙏

Boothill does not care that you're chubby at all - quite the opposite, he loves it! He genuinely thinks you look gorgeous, but most importantly, he's obsessed with hugging you and how soft you are! It gives him the fuzzy memories and reminds him how much he misses his old body.

Boothill does not tolerate yours or - aeons forbid - anyone else's bad comments about your body. Sure, he might laugh at some jokes you make, but once you take it too far, he gently reminds you that you're just as human as anybody else and should respect yourself! He won't judge you either, I mean - you're dating a cyborg, so if you love him for who he is in and out, he'll do the same.

Boothill might be a little too happy to touch your love handles at any occasion he gets. He's a little bit of a chubby chaser (like Itto, but it ain't about him) in the best way possible, he really likes to just... Grab stuff. Especially if it's about you.

Boothill might not be that good with words, but will always reassure you that he truly just loves you, regardless of how you think about yourself. Boothill will scoop you in his arms, kiss your cheek gently and wipe your tears if you truly feel down about your looks that day.

"Listen up, sweet pea," Boothill smiles at you softly, "all I can see is absolute perfection. Ya might not feel the same and it's fine - but I promise ya, pretty thing, I'll never get tired of seein' these beautiful curves."

He's definitely willing to prove his words with actions, though..

Try prying away Boothill from your thighs when he gets to them, I dare you. God, he loves, fuck, LOVES everything about your thick thighs. Having them as pillow, having his face squished between them... He jokes it's his only place to die the second time (💀). He just might go insane if you wear shorts that emphasize your revealed thighs.

He might just be laying between your thighs when he recharges. There's no reason to it, he's enveloped by two warm pillows and he's on cloud nine. Deal with it.

You may not notice, but Boothill sometimes just drools over you. If you're chubbier in the butt - he fights himself internally not to pull you from behind by your shorts against him and shamelessly grope you. Chubbier tits? He's almost barking when they spill from your bra. Chubbier stomach? God, the way some of your clothes stick to it, it makes his head dizzy. A little bit of everything? Good, he wants it all. Just sit on his face and stop talking.

Boothill might short-circuit when you sit on his lap for the first time because any aeons out there, this is heaven. Literally just marry him on the spot please. He isn't letting you go once you sit down. He's literally the "let's fucking go" meme afterwards.

You just have to slap away Boothill's hands in public from time to time because this man's hands slowly progress from just holding your waist, then firmly holding your hips, and traveling to finally hold your ass.

Though, when someone dares to speak something that makes you doubt yourself even more, let alone make you cry - things are going to get violent. Boothill won't let it slide, and on top of that, he's fucking pissed off. Boothill will hunt them in every lifetime.