#How does he look good despite being sweaty ...........

[choccorin]

WODHIWJDJWBSGGGUUUYSSSSJWJDWDJWK !!!!!!!

[2-dsimp]

“Order up! With an extra tip on the side!”

Tw: NSFW MDNI, yandere pizza deliverymen x bimbo reader! Dubcon, sexual transactions, food tampering, obsessive/posseive tendencies, cum eating, handjobs,

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

yandere! Pizza deliverymen who fight over the rotations in who’d get to deliver to their favorite regular customer, and receive a special tip in return.

You always had a craving for pizza so you got to know most of the delivery staff for YanSlicers. They only accept cash for payment at the door, to which you forgot about half the time.

So you’d always be so embarrassed going up to the door with insufficient funds. As you had difficulty handling cash and figuring out the percentage of tips and whatnot.

Bottomline is you sucked at math, even the basics. So the nice deliverymen would always offer you an alternative.

One day, you didn’t have enough and the youngest pizza delivery man showed up leaning at your frame door panting out of breath.

Oma had won the ticket lottery to come to your address. And despite being pulled into a minor scuffle by his sore loser colleagues. Which left him looking like he came outta a car wreck.

He just boyishly grinned at you as if he wasn’t wearing a torn uniform, a head wrap bandage, and a dozen hello kitty bandaids slapped across his face.

“Oh I can already tell! You must not have enough this time either huh cutie pie?” Oma sounded so elated that you couldn’t even pay him. As if he didn’t work to get paid to begin with, and only does it to see you.

His sweaty hands were already fumbling with the buckles on his pants. Knowing the drill you got on your knees looking bashful as but determined to get that box of hot pizza.

“Aweee you look so damn adorable when you get on your knees for me~ we trained you up real good.” He gushed, with a heavy flush on his cheeks. Eyes blown wide staring down your cleavage. “C-can you do me a favor and take out a slice for me?”

Oma was the most tame, when it came to alternative payments. Or was mainly scared that if he fucked you like the others, he’d make a fool outta himself.

Since he knew the moment, he’d attempt to penetrate inside that juicy cunt of yours. He’d seen from pictures and videos his colleagues sent in the group chat that he’d bust a fat nut instantly.

You opened the box he handed to you, smelling the lovely aroma of melted cheese, fresh toppings, and toasted bread. Making you salivate before you held the slice up for him to aim at with the tip of his cock.

“Now lend me your other hand, uh huh that’s it keep pumping me just like that and squeeze it real tight.” He was always so vocal about what he wanted from you to make him feel good. And he relished in how obedient you were.

His length was warm, and slimy twitching in your hand. He helped in guided you to fap it faster and squeeze tighter around his thick girth.

Damn his knees were already starting to buckle, which was understandable as he’s been erect. Pathetically palming at himself the whole car ride to your place.

His tongue lolled out as his hips stuttered into your enclosed fist. Small dollops of precum dripped onto the pizza slice. “You’re doing amazing honey, just one more favor, tell me I’m your favorite. That you love it when I’m the one knocking at your door. Please?”

Oma always was a stickler for being praised and wanted by you, as your favorite deliveryman.

He wanted to rub it in his colleagues face, tell them that their adorable regular adored him the most.

While he may get ganged up on and possibly get stomped on by his jealous coworkers. Nothing would ever break his inflated ego which came from your cute voice telling him he’s the best.

You really did enjoy how needy he was and continued on praising him with a sweet smile on your face. He was just so charming when he was an sniveling overstimulated mess.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m cumming sweetness, this love sauce is just for you! T-take it all for me!” He whined, head tossed back using your hand to jerk off his shaft furiously, till his mushroom tip spurted ropes of his hot jizz all over your face and the pizza slice.

You continued to stroke him, even when his hand left yours. Making sure to coax all of his extra love sauce onto your slice. Making him curl his toes and squirm while biting his lip.

“Haa, thank you. I— shit I need to take a picture.” Gods, you drove him wild he got so flustered looking at you. That He nearly dropped the phone he was fishing out of his pockets.

“O-okay uh smile for the camera baby, need a clear shot so I can mount this moment on my wall—I mean mark it for a delivery well received!” You merely gazed up at him, making him groan from how slutty you looked with his baby batter, sticking to your cheeks.

Fuck his dick was rearing up for more again, and really it didn’t help when you bit into the cum covered slice giving a peace sign.

He didn’t have much time left, before the others would rally up and complain about him going over the time limit of delivery.

Oma shakily exhaled, clumsily angling his phone to take a momento of this transaction.

It was a procedure they said that was required of them to do, to make sure you get more points for your VIP membership.

Funny thing is they never had a rewards membership program to begin with being a new franchise. They just needed an excuse to spread their photos of you in the group chat. And gloat about who left you marked up as theirs the most.

But you didn’t have to know that.

[comically-callous]

Can I request headcanons for Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Wade finding out that his gn s/o has never dated anyone else before him please?

X-Men requests YAYYYYY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!!!!!!! 🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃🤸🏃

Wade, Logan, Remy, and Kurt with a s/o who hasn’t dated anyone other than them!! <3

Warnings!: cursing ig, reader is referred to as pretty (I consider that gender neutral, but wanted to put it here just in case), and that’s it!

A/n: Want them all ngl 😞 If it wasn’t already clear, I’m delighted to have my first X-Men request. And I also really like this prompt (definitely not because I can relate to it. Haha, shut up). Also, requests: OPEN 💜

Wade:

He straight up thinks you’re lying when you first tell him. He even laughs because he’s convinced you’re just messing with him.

But, then he realizes you’re not laughing and he’s like “Oh, shit. Really?”

He’ll apologize for laughing and probably say some shit like “Sorry, I just didn’t realize a smoke show like you was capable of being single”

And he means it. He was fully under the impression that you’d been on more than a few dates because you’re HOT

Definitely teases you about it. “Is that why your hands were so sweaty on our first date?”

Don’t be afraid to (playfully) smack him.

Despite all of the teasing, he makes sure to let you know that it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he thinks it’s cute

He’ll say that you’re “new to dating” even if the two of you have been dating for years

Starts calling you a rookie. And he ends up saying it so much that it just becomes one of the many pet names he has for you

And, yeah. When you’re not around he’s probably giggling and kicking his feet over how he’s your first boyfriend 🤭

Logan:

When you first tell him, he just looks at you for a second, not saying anything before going “You’re serious?”

“And you decided I’d be a good first pick?” He says it like he’s teasing, but, in reality, it does confuse him a bit.

Like, wouldn’t you want someone sweet and kind for your first relationship? Not a grumpy, old guy with knife hands???

Nonetheless, he’s grateful (and even honored) to be given the title of your first boyfriend

He doesn’t make a huge deal out of it. He’ll occasionally bring it up, maybe ask a question or two about it. But, it doesn’t really change anything about your relationship.

Or, at least, that’s what you think for a while.

One night, he returns from a long mission and he crawls into bed next to you, and you think he’s just gonna immediately go to sleep like he does every time he comes back from a mission. But, then he mumbles something.

“I wish I’d had someone like you as my first.”

And before you can even process it, he’s asleep.

You ask him about it in the morning and he says he doesn’t remember saying it. You can decide whether or not you think he’s lying.

Remy:

You tell him that you want to tell him something, and he can tell you’re nervous about it.

“What’s got you so nervous, chère? You know Gambit don’t judge nobody. ‘Specially not you.”

And you confess to him that you’ve never dated anyone and he’s like. “Oh. That’s it?”

He doesn’t mean to sound apathetic. He was just expecting something bad.

He asks you to clarify what you mean by “not dating anyone before him” because he thinks he somehow misunderstood you

“You telling me no one ever tried to get with a pretty thing like you?” And then he smirks. “Or were you just ignorin’ all of ‘em till Gambit came round?”

He also teases you about it from time to time. Makes little comments about how he’s your first.

But, it’s just because he loves it.

He often thinks about how he’s the only guy who’s gotten to take you on dates and do all this romantic stuff with you

“Don’t no one else know what they missing out on….”

Kurt:

He doesn’t even try to hide his surprise. He can’t.

“I’m really your first? But, how? You are so beautiful!” He’s just upfront with why he thinks it’s absurd.

He needs to hear it a few more times before he finally accepts it. And that’s when he starts getting giddy.

“I am your first lover?” He grins. “I like that, I think.”

And now everyone has to know. Sorry.

He will gladly go around and tell people that he’s your “first love” (as he likes to say). Is it usually embarrassing for you? Yes. But, it’s Kurt. So, it’s okay.

So, yeah. You definitely don’t have to worry about whether or not he minds it.

Of course, now he has to ask a bunch of questions about it too.

“So, was the first date you’ve ever had with me?” If you say yes, he smiles before asking. “Was it good?” Like he doesn’t already know the answer.

He’s just over the moon that he was the first person that you really fell in love with. And he wants you and everyone around you to know how happy he is with you.

[s0dium]

THAT'S A RED FLAG BABY

JJK MEN AND RED FLAGS

A/n: Yessirrrr MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis: Jujutsu men and their red flag in a relationship or generally and how it shows through when they fuck

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Yuuta Okkatsu, Sukuna Ryomen, Choso

Warnings: Emotional abuse, narcissism, controlling behavior, dub-con, semi-public sex, spitting, fingering, rough sex, male masturbation, degrading, praise, teasing

~

Gojo Satoru- Narcissist  

Since he was a kid, Gojo has been praised and called many things

The honored one, the strongest, gifted and so on

But what people don't see is behind those beautiful sapphire eyes, is a goddamn narcissist through and through

He thinks, no he knows that he is the best, best at everything

This includes what goes on in bed.

And its not only that, the white-haired fox only cares about himself too in the sheets, abusing his unnatural stamina and using you like a cock sleeve for his own taste

At least he can be nice about it sometimes

Gojo is relentless. Its almost like your his personal cock sleeve, his dick shaping your insides and abusing your cervix despite your choked sobs and whines for him to stop, to simply slow down. He holds the back of your head with his hand, allowing you to look down at the way you two are connected; how he retracts his hips until his tip barely pokes out, admiring the slick coating his shaft before slamming back into you again.

"Ahhh~ P-please Satoru please...."

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs. Why were the people that surrounded him always so weak? Even you. It's a good thing you feel like heaven he could almost forgive you.

Tears stream down your face. Every time the tip of his dick rams against your cervix a powerful feeling mixed with pain and pleasure that surges through your body making you tremble and shake. You're losing your mind. Everything is so good, and, God, you can't ignore how handsome Gojo looks right now. His white hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and the muscles of his toned abdomen are flexing and unflexing. He is gorgeous, and, boy, he knows it. Even the way your pussy squeezes and spasms around his dick sends more bolts of electric pleasure to dance through your skim.

"Shhhh, just take it 'kay? You're doing so good for me baby." Gojo coos.

Geto Suguru -Controlling

It starts off small, a comment here and there on your choice of friends, a small criticism on where you were going to spend the evening because wouldn't you have much more fun spending it with him?

Then he's starting to pick out outfits for you. Modest but pretty ones for outside but short skimpy clothes for when you're only with him. It even gets to the point where he is controlling your finances, making you only use his credit card, and its not about the money, you can use as much as you want for all he cares. It's about the control, you being helplessly reliant on him.

And Geto has such an easy time getting away with his controlling tendencies, showering you in praises and sweet nothings about how he just wants to protect you. And the way his violet eyes gleam at you, you almost always believe him.

Don't for a second think that he's insecure because it's far from it. The raven-haired man just wants to have you all to himself, he just wants to protect you from the cruel cruel world out there.

"Didn't I tell you to ask me first if you are going to wear an outfit like that?" Geto whispers in your ear but you can barely focus on his words. The curl of his fingers inside you is just too numbing; the way it hits, prods, and massages a spot deep inside your walls that you can only dream about reaching on your own. Geto's fingers are so thick too, almost filling you up as deliciously as his dick does. Almost. "Mmm- I- I, I didn't-" You gasp for air and try to bury your face into your hands. He currently has you against a wall of some bathroom stall but that fact seemed all but lost to you right now. The pleasure was building in your core and fast. Your legs were starting to shake and a numbing electric feeling had taken course throughout your body. You didn't have to open your eyes to know that Geto was smirking.

Suddenly, Goto curls his fingers in a way that deeply presses your g-spot and the dam of pleasure that had built inside you breaks. Your jaw goes slack and your whole body trembles with electricity.

"Didn't expect for you to crack so easily" he chuckles against your ear, and you collapse into his chest. Yuta Okkatsu- Too obsessed

You would think this is a good thing right? You could never love someone too much, but it was different with Yuuta

Sure you had a crush on him, sure you touched yourself to him plenty of times (which Yuuta knew of very well) so the feelings weren't all that unreciprocated

But theres a line, there's a line that Yuta always seems to cross

From taking pictures of you to texting you constantly, christ you even found your panties in his drawer, yuta love was overwhelming.

Yuuta knows that he should wake you up, but he cant bring himself too right now. You just look so beautiful, so perfect under the soft glow of the night sky. Also, he just feels so good right now, Yuuta can barely think so much as speak. "Mmmm-mmm" he whimpers against the pillow, slowly grinding his clothed erection against your bare leg. How would you react if you knew your boyfriend was humping you while you sleep? Would you push him away? No no you're too kind for that, you would probably help him, probably pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings until he finished. Yes, if he knew for a fact that you'd help him when you wake up, what's stopping you from helping you now? Careful not to wake you up, he picks up your hand. It's so small compared to his but wraps so well around his throbbing member. He glides your thumb across his red tip to collect the precum before slowly sliding your hand up and down. The pleasure is immediate. It makes him bury his face into your neck to to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses along your skin.

Sukuna Ryomen- Sadist

Where to start with Sukuna. Sukuna is the red flag.

Actually, even that is a complete understatement. Sukuna is straight-up cruel, rather he is a sadist through and through.

Manipulation, degrading, humiliation....although he wouldn't physically abuse you, with emotional abuse he won't hesitate.

You expect compassion, sympathy, and kindness from him? Fat chance. It is hard to see Sukuna being in any relationship at all.

Sukuna certainly doesn't love you, but he sure does love the sex though

Like any good sadist, his sexual pleasure derives from your physical or emotional suffering.

"Aw look at you, fucked you dumb did I?" Sukuna chuckles. A tattooed hand snakes between to your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit before delivering a sharp slap to the nerve.

Your eyes widen and your hips instantly buck up, unintentionally sending his dick deeper into you. The position he has you in is brutal. Both of your legs are thrown over Sukuna's shoulders and pressed against your chest, effectively folding you in half. "Open ya mouth" He orders, but you are too lost in the pleasure that is blooming in your stomach, the pleasure that is making your cunt flutter and squeeze desperately around his fat cock. "I said open." Sukuna delivers a particularly harsh thrust before stilling inside you; keeping the tip of his dick smushed against your cervix. The sudden movement snaps you out of your haze and you obediently widen your mouth letting your tongue hang out. Sukuna lets a glob of spit fall from his lips onto your awaiting tongue. You don't need to be told to swallow, you do so on habit, giving him a soft smile as you do so.

"Fuck, ya so perfect, such a good girl."

Choso- Jealous 

Choso is the type of man who keeps to himself. The type of man to blend in a group or fade into the background.

But that doesn't mean he notices things. In fact, he notices things a bit too well.

Was that your coworker who touched your shoulder? You say that he is just a friend but who should a friend be able to touch you so easily?

He won't hesitate to bring up what he notices either, he says he's not accusing you of anything, that he trusts you, but he totally is.

He hates it when people get to close to his brothers so it posits that he loathes it when it comes to his lover.

How did you get here? How did an argument turn into this?

You want to scream, you want to thrash and tell Choso that he's got it all wrong, that you didn't mean to see your guy friend when you went out to have lunch. It was just a harmless bump-in that turned into a long conversation. Thats it. But the feeling of Choso's dick filling you up, his harsh thrusts and the fucking delicious friction of the drag, Jesus, it's just- it's just so good your mind that your mind is a white sheet.

You are on all fours but you don't know how much longer you can keep the position up. Not with the way he's ramming your pussy from behind.

“You are mine," he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal is brutal. "Mine," he swears, and he pulls you up so your back is pressed against him and you are upright. Choso doesn’t slow his movement though, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing up and down from the harshness of it all.

“You wanna cum? Good, cum."

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ HE LIKES IT WET 'N' MESSY ❞

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...synopsis : the more you think about it, the more you realize you love how messy atsumu is…

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...cw : m. atsumu x fem!reader, wet and messy, ovėrstimulation, dirty talk, marathon sėx, desperation, playful banter, unprotected sēx, excessive cūm (?), atsumu's undiscovered breēding kınk, begging, messy kissing, atsumu miya can't shut the fuck up

ᯓ ⭑ ₊‧⁺...lunar's note : another revamping of an old work of mine where i just. make this even more debauched and filthier than it was before !!

if there’s one word to describe atsumu miya, it’s messy.

sometimes, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed, waiting until you playfully kick him in the butt to pick up his things and put them in the laundry.

he's also so messy when it comes to eating, always having food on his face, causing you to tease him as he tries to wipe it off, completely missing.

it doesn't bother you that much, having already grown used to his messy nature.

it does bother you, however, when he makes a big mess of the sheets. he's always ignoring your whines for him to get a towel to put down or else you'd make him do laundry for the rest of the week.

atsumu always gives the same damn response, a long whine of your name, telling you he’ll clean it up after.

after all, atsumu doesn't think he can bring himself to pull out of your slick heat, not when you feel this fucking good. he can't remember the last time he got to fuck you like this, messy and desperate without worrying about needing to get up early the next day to catch a bus or plane for a game.

he swears he almost forgot how warm you were, how sweet your voice sounds when you were this close to him, how pretty your face looks even when you were looking at him rather annoyed despite being fucked.

“’t-'tsumie, the towel—!”

“baby, nooooo, don’ make me pull out, don' it feel good? d'ya really want me to stop?”

fuck, you can't lie, it feels good, it feels so fucking good, the way he slows his hips to torture you with the slow drag of his cock, making you feel every inch pull out...and then slowly slide back in, a wet squelch signally his hips pressing fully against you.

but that doesn't stop you from being annoyed, knowing your fresh sheets were already a mess.

“d'awww, don’ look at me like that, sweetcheeks. tsumtsum's gonna make ya feel reaaal good if y'forget about the damn sheets,” atsumu huffs, his sweaty hands grabbing the back of your thighs and pushing them closer to your upper body.

its sinful the way he manages to slip in even deep into you, his teeth digging into his bottom lip to prevent the pitiful little whimper from leaving him.

“l-lemme make a mess, baby girl, please?”

you want to roll your eyes at his request, because it's a little too late for him to ask you that. his cum from the first round is already dripping out your stuffed cunt, leaking onto the freshly washed bed sheets under you.

it doesn't matter that his sticky cock head is messing up your insides by pressing against all the spots that have you gushing. you just put these sheets on the bed!

giving him the best pout you can manage, you huff, "f-fine—o-oh!"

that pretty little moan shouldn't cause him to react so excitedly, but he can't help it. hearing your approval has him giggling, he knew you'd give in eventually, and he's going to make sure you don't regret it.

besides, hearing you, his sweet lil' princess, try to sound all tough and serious with his cock deep inside your hot gummy walls that were sucking him in with each thrust is making him so dizzy.

you are too damn cute for your own good.

he can't hold back anymore, not when you're so cute. his hands squeeze your thighs before he starts to pound into you, savoring the way you keen for him, mouth open as you chant his name so needily.

you aren't the only one being loud, poor atsumu giving up on holding back all those pretty noises of his, the way your tight walls squeeze and massage his throbbing dick so sweetly making it literally impossible to stay quiet.

“f-fuck, 'tsumu, ‘s too deep, ’s coming out more,” you whimper, trying to lift your hips to stop his cum from leaking out of you.

the wetness of your overstimulated cunted paired with his leaking cum causes the room to be filled with loud, wet, squelching, causing you to look down.

you suck in a breath, a hot pang of pleasure shooting up your spine at the sight between your legs. atsumu’s stupidly big dick is an absolute creamy mess that only seems to get messier the more he moves, pulling and pushing the sticky mixture of your cum in and out.

“listen to that, dolly, s' fuckin’ dirty. mmnh, tight l-lil' cunt can’t hold all my cum?”

god, atsumu doesn't ever shut up, he's always such a talker, knowing how embarrassed it makes you.

“c’mon, say it, angel, say it f' me, pretty please?”

“a…atsumu, i can’t hold all of your cum…’s comin’ out, ‘tsumu, you're making me messy.”

he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it, god, he really wasn't, but you did and now his eyes are fluttering as they roll back into his skull.

don't cum, don't cum, don't cum, he chants to himself, feeling himself nearly lose it just from your words.

a choked groan forces its way out of his mouth, you're just too fucking hot for him. he can't think of anything but you, your pretty face, your soft body, and your insanely wet cunt.

“s’okay, s’okay, fuck, i’ll-i'll fuck ya, pumpkin, 't-'tsumi's gonna fuck ‘n’ fill ya up over ‘n’ over again, 'til y'can't keep it all inside, gotta stuff you with my cum, make you cream around my cock, need it, need it.”

atsumu is absolutely gone, now fully pressing into you as he fucks you into the mattress. each thrust makes you cry his name, fingers digging into his back as he puts you into a mating press, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, so ready to pump another hot load into you.

it's too much, the drag of his cock and the way it was so deep inside you. tears prick the corners of your eyes, each thrust making your brain slowly turn into nothing but mush. you hate the mess, you really do, but hearing atsumu so desperate does something for you.

you...you want it, you want him to mess you up.

your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you moan and pant against his ear.

“a-atsumu, honey,” you coo to him, savoring the stuttering of his hips and the quiet hiss of ‘fuck’ you get out of him from the sound of your voice. “please, please fuck me more, fuck me, fill me up, stuff my pussy with your cum, h-honey, mark me nice a-an' deep, okay?”

everyone in the world knows that atsumu miya would give you the world if you asked. so you want to be filled up nice and full? then, he'll give you what you want, take such good care of you and make sure you feel him dripping out of you for days.

“yeah, yeah, fuck, good girl. take this cock, take it like a good girl, so good, my pretty girl, fuck! s-she takes this cock so well, wish you could see how good ya look stretched 'round me like this, baby, ohmyfuckin'goddd.”

you can't stop yourself, pulling him into a sloppy, desperate, the need to taste him overwhelming as your hands get tangled in his hair. he pulls away, panting into your mouth as his thrusts get harder and sloppier.

it's just a fucking mess now, your slick and cream and his cum are coating his abdomen and thighs, dripping everywhere. each thrust has you splashing on him from how fucking wet you are, and atsumu feels like he's gonna fucking faint if he tries to hold off his orgasm for much longer.

“'tsumu, 't-tsumu, 'tsumu—!"

“t-tell me ya want it, baby girl, p-please? c-c'mon, tell me y'want my fuckin' cum inside ya, n-need ta hear it,” he begs against your mouth, eyes watery as desperate tears threaten to spill.

you can't think, can't give a coherent response as you babble, the word ‘please’ falling from your lips over and over again. you just want him to stop talking and kiss you again as he pumps your needy hole full of his seed, until you can't take anymore, until it spurts out from around his cock.

but then, he stops.

a strangled sob leaves you the second his hips stop moving. it's borderline painful, you're so fucking close. just a few more thrusts and you'd be creaming all over his thick cock, tugging and pulling on his hair as your slick squirts all over him.

but no, atsumu fucking stopped.

you look at him with teary eyes, silently begging him to explain. this is just unfair to both of you! but atsumu only gives you a cocky grin, and you have to stop yourself from flicking his nose.

he grants you some relief, rolling his hips gently as his hand slides up to cup the back of your head as he pepper your sweaty cheek in open mouthed kisses. he's so annoying, you love him so bad.

“dunno, pumpkin, don' think ya begged enough f'me. hmm...i’ll give ya one more shot, baby…tell me how fucking much ya want my fuckin’ cum in yer pretty cunt and make ya a creamy lil' mess."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[oystermark]

humantorch gn! reader x mark (sfw + nsfw 'bottom reader')

a/n: (the reader is unable to turn their powers off for the most part!) sorry for the incoherent drabble i just finished writing my mid term and i am drained but this idea wont leave my mind, this is just me having fun and relieving stress apologies if it isnt good🫂 not proofread!

headcanons !

sfw (ish)

he usually jokes about how you're like an upgraded and advanced version of rex which earns him an elbow on the stomach

since you're literally on fire all the time, especially on duty, your suit skin tight and sparkling under your own light, mark has gotten way too many stray hits just because he was distracted looking at your figure

speaking of your fire body, when he tries to kiss you, you can see him visibly sweat, feel him shake against you as your fire sears through him when your lips connect, viltrumites are durable but your flames makes him sweat so much it borders on being unbearable but- its you, you could never be unbearable

talking about kisses, when you two had your first kiss, your head exploded with so much fire you burnt half his clothes and almost all of his eyebrows off. you apologized profusely and he's teased you about it since

when you two have dates, you just buy sliced raw meat, your favorite salad, sit on your favorite spot away from the city and you torch the meat feeding it to him. he always hisses teasingly when your finger burns his tongue, you give him apology kisses, though he is considerably sweaty after said kisses, all red on the cheeks and heavy breathing because of the heat of your body, goddamn adorable

you guys tried to have an ice cream date once, you couldnt even hold them for a minute before they melted all over your hands and mark- well, he licked it all off, someone has to clean your messes after all. his tongue was considerably burnt but he does heal very fast, no need for concern, fucker actually moans when your fingers sear his tongue, masochist. he did have a genius solution to your predicament though, he took a bite of ice cream (a sacrifice you will never forget) and pulled you closer by your nape. transfering ice cream to you via open mouthed kiss. yes, its very messy, yes you lick each other clean, yes it lead to you giving him head, pretty standard.

nsfw

speaking of giving him head, good god does he moan and whine up a storm when you suck him off. his hands unable to go to your head (flames), just desperately gripping the sheets, his thighs squeezing your head (he ends up touching your head in some way despite the said flames), "baby- fuuck im- shit!" he hissed as you sucked on his head, giggling as his thighs flex around your head. your hands cup his balls and you contuine to suck on his head, humming as you see his chest heaving and feel him stiffen under you, you take him all the way down to the base his tip hitting your throat and moan as he cums down your throat with an almost scream, his toes curling, thighs clamping down on the sides of your head, his hands -uncaring of the flames- pushing his dick even deeper by your head as he throws his head back. tears already streaming down his cheeks, he whines out your name and his thighs finally relax. you let go of his cock with a final suck on the head -which earns you the most pathetic cry from mark- you rest your head on his inner thigh as you wait for him to come down from his high. "you're so perfect,' he curses under his breath in appreciation as you nibble on his inner thigh.

he loves loves loveees fucking you the most, ass up face down, gripping the fat of your ass as he pounds into you with as much force as he can muster to not break you. just, loves to hold you by your hips, watching his dick go in and out of you, its fucking hypnotic. and god- the heat, that's the best part, he groans as you clench down on his cock, biting his lip as he feels your body temprature go up even higher, "fuck baby you're making me melt-!" he gasps out as you start to push back along with his thrusts, "you complaining, pretty boy?" he chuckles, biting down on your shoulder as he puts more power into his thrusts, making you whine and push back harder, "never, keep that hole tight for me- fuck yes- god you're so," he drags his cock out until only the tip is inside, then slams his length down, "perfect," his heart swells with pride and his dick throbs inside you as you cum with a strangled moan of his name, shaking under him, your body almost as hot as lava underneath his finger tips and wrapped around his dick. he wouldn't have it any other way.

[magicians-abode]

"What flavor was it...?"

[Ken Takakura/Okarun x gn!reader]

Warnings: fluff - long fic(?

Sitting on his lap with each leg placed comfortably beside his as he sat on the soft mattress, you gently but generously applied lipgloss over your lips once again. "Don't look, alright? I'm watching you," you murmured, teasing the poor guy as he nodded, kepping his eyes tightly shut as you had instructed. By now both of you had lost count of how many times your lips had clashed together in a sweet dance, or how many times you had applied lipgloss over your soft lips, or how many times, due to his nerves, Ken had guessed the flavor incorrectly, making you reapply it once again and try over and over until he got the flavor right.

Having lipgloss wasn't just good for whenever you wanted to feel pretty, it was also good for teasing the hell out of your poor boyfriend, like right now, and you couldn't be more taken by the sight of his reddened cheeks as he patiently waited for you to say he could open his eyes again.

He nervously fixed his glasses over the bridge of his nose despite having them shut in a nervous gesture before speaking in a shaky and rather high-pitched voice. "A—are you done... yet?"

With a loud popˎˊ˗ of your lips, you set the tube of shiny gloss behind him on the bed and grin. "Yup, all ready." His eyes flutter open, and he fixes his glasses once again with timidity. His eyes meet yours as he does, but then, they fall to the culprit of his nerves, of his almost sweaty palms. He swore he could feel them begin to sweat, he swore it. And it was terribly embarrassing. Takakura gulped, and before he could say anything, you leaned back in, pressing your lips against his.

His hand moved up to cup your face shakily as he closed his eyes once more, and even though your lips felt like heaven itself and he oh so badly wanted to get lost in the dizzying feeling they caused, he made his best efforts to focus on what flavor you had reapplied on them just for him this time.

After a good minute or two, he pulls away, breathless and in slight awe of your kiss. "Is it... Cherry?" He whispers, trying to guess correctly.

"We already used the cherry-flavored one, pretty boy," you say with a teasing smile, and it makes him avert his eyes, hoping you can't notice just how embarrassed you make him feel. "L—let me try again..." he mutters bashfully, already leaning forward on his own. The hand on your cheek moves to hold onto the back of your head tenderly instead. It's sweet and gentle, almost like he's afraid to touch you too harshly and accidentally hurt you. He'd be mortified if it happened, that's for sure.

His lips move against yours with sweetness, and despite how nervous he feels, he makes sure to let it be known that he loves this by kissing you slowly and taking his time. Takakura's lips are surprisingly soft, making them addictive and so, so kissable. You feel his round glasses touch your nose as he tilts his face to the side to deepen the kiss slightly.

With furrowed brows in concentration, he mulls over about the flavor in his head. "They said it's not cherry... but... I'm not sure what it is." He tilts his head to the other side and gently leans forward. "Maybe... strawberry? Or grapes? It's so soft... their lips feel so nice..." he pulls away again, this time more confused than before. "I... are you s—sure it's not cherry flavored, (y/n)?" He mumbles tentatively "I—It's very sweet."

"I'm pretty sure. But... if you give up, I'll tell you." Takakura blinks and instinctively tries to look behind him at the small collection of flavored gloss you hid from his view but finds his face gently being guided back to face you. "Nuh-uh, that's cheating" you pout, and he nods, flustered by your gesture. "R—right, I'm sorry, I—I just can't... get it right." he stutters, scratching the back of his head.

"Well then, it's a good thing we have aaall day, right?" You smirk. "Let's try again."

After repeating the process of closing his eyes tightly, reapplying your lipgloss, and kissing once again, Ken pulls away, breathless, a small string of saliva connecting your lips. He wipes it away quickly, feeling his hands shake with embarrassment. "I— I think I got it" he quickly speaks, looking to the side. "Is it— Is it peach... maybe?" He squints, an eyebrow raised hoping to finally get it right this time around. His heart is going to explode if he doesn't; he can feel it, beating like a bird trapped inside a cage.

Clapping your hands together a few times in applause, you grin. "Yeah, you got it this time, Okarun!"

"N—no way!" He smiles brightly with excitement, but his cheerfulness is quickly replaced by confusion as he shakes his head. "Wait, really? Peach flavor? That... that's not what it tastes like."

"Well it's an artificial flavor, it's obviously not going to taste like the real thing" you flick his forehead playfully with clear amusement in your voice. He rubs his forehead, letting a soft "ow..." and looks into your eyes. "H—How many did I guess so far?" He smiles sweetly, and you can't help but realize how adorable he looks each time he does.

"Hm..." you look behind him at the ones you've already used "seems like we only tried four different ones" you answer, and his eyes widen comically.

"Four?! Just four?!" He feels his face heating up again and he gulps nervously. "But we've been here for a really long time!" He looks at the clock on your bedside table, which shows the numbers 5:34 p.m., you've been kissing for a whole hour already...

You laugh at his bashful reaction, finding it endearing. "What, you don't like kissing me for that long, Okarun?" You tease, obviously not meaning anything by it, but he's quick to shake his head.

"N—no, it's nothing like that! I really enjoy kissing you" his hands had moved down to gently rest over your hips "it's just... I don't know, I guess it's just really embarrassing..." mumbling softly, Ken looks away, avoiding your gaze.

"Well... if you need a break we can take one. Just say the word" you cup his face in your hands and stare lovingly at him, a gaze he returns just as intensely.

"N—no... I can— I can keep going. I want to keep going. I really... enjoy kissing you, (y/n)" he admits, and your lips stretch into a wide grin.

"Well then, let's keep going, shall we? We have like eight different flavors left for you to guess!"

"EIGHT?!" Takakura practically squeaks, but as he sees you grab a different tube of lipgloss, his eyes fall closed. "You're going to make me pass out" he stutters a protest, but in all honesty, despite feeling like his world was spinning each time he kissed you, he found it was a rather beautiful way to go if he did happen to die thanks to the embarrassment. He could keep kissing you for the rest of his life, nothing else really mattered at all.

(A/N: oh my gosh! This took a really long time and so much effort for me to finish. I didn't want to just leave it in my notes like so many other ones so I did my best. Please do tell me if there's anything wrong, I feel like reading it seems kinda funny but it could be just the fact that I've been re-reading it over and over to check for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy it!!)

[wxxpingangxls]

ur nerdmin works are literally the best, idk i feel like u capture him so well? i’m like a dog licking every crumb u make of him

can u please make one inspired by the fanart where’s he’s at the party and he shows his tongue piercing????? he’s a freak!!!!!!! i would eat this up so good 😋

omg stopp that's such a sweet damn compliment, i love you for it baby!!

ouuuuuuuu boy do i have something for youuuuuuuuuuuuu....

visuals: 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5 … 6 … 7

baby yuh tight!

now after you and armin's little escapades of yk mostly oral, it led you to believe that it was just that. a little dalliance. you helped him and his oral fixation, and he helps you relax. it's the perfect thing to get you through the grueling years of university especially with your course dragging your ass.

it'll start with him watching you scratch your head, huffing and puffing, sighing and exasperating over those stupid essays. and he'd crawl between your legs like a sneaky cat, asking for snacks. and then straight to pleasure palace for both you and him!

yet armin couldn't help but clench his jaw at the sight of you with another man around your arm. it made him, angry? jealous? possessive? he didn't know, all he knew is that he didn't like it.

so you can't blame him when his fists started clenching at the sounds of your giggles and some random bastards voice. amidst the sweaty bodies, with the loud music blaring and lights flashing, he could still hear your sweet voice engaging in conversation with that bastard eren. he didn't like it, not one bit. but what could he do? snatch you away? beat eren up? fat fucking chance. armin had fought eren once and got beat the fuck up so he knew he stood no chance. i mean look at the poor kid. those thin arms. who the hell was he going to fight? his hairdresser? i mean i wouldn't blame him.

either way, he had to come up with something, fast. he liked you. like, like liked you. a lot. before he could think, he found himself walking towards your beautiful figure, watching as that strange man leeched and leered at your full tits.

he watched as eren's eyes moved up and down with every jiggle of your boobs. fuck, that should've been him not eren's fatass. now armin was mad.

"hey, Y/N?" armin's meek voice made you turn around to face him. the flashing lights of blue and purple gave him an eerie almost alien like look.

"omg, eren look! it's my roommate; armin!" you squealed, drunkenly.

"yeah, i've seen him around," eren faced to armin and gave him a nasty stare.

"can i ask you something?" armin asked somewhat reluctantly.

"really? now? can't it wait?" you deadpanned.

"please?" he whined.

you tutted and gave eren an apoligetic look before pulling his arm. "what is it you want? me and eren were...hitting it off," you giggled, twirling your hair.

"yeah, i saw. i just wanted to say you looked great," he slammed the bathroom door as you took your place onto the counter. goosebumps from the cold ceramic rose all across your skin. armin noticed and started rubbing his hands up and down your arms. "what are you doing armin?" you smirked. armin cocked his head as his face moved closer to your own. "what does it look like?" he shoved his tongue down your throat as you pulled that back of his hair. he moaned into your mouth like a whiny baby.

honestly, it was cute. armin was cute; with his whimpers that were high pitched and breathy. his fingers trembled as he held you face in them. see, that's the thing about skinny men. despite being thinner than a victorian child, they sure knew how to hold it down. i mean, armin would be munching on your pussy all night long, yet he'd be able to hold your legs up all the way to your ears and keep them there. he had some sort of hidden freaky strength. almost as if your pussy juice gave him the invisible muscles he needed.

all you could think about as his lips grazed your neck and his hand slipped down your dress to fiddle with your nipples. "armin, please...." you breathed out.

"please what?" he slyly smirked. that was the thing. armin was a munch and it make your coochie go woowoo. if this were any other circumstance, you'd probably shake him up a little, i don't know maybe punch him in the mouth. but right now, armin had that pussy in control. you were talking straight out of her, and there was nothing you could do.

"eat me out, make me cum like you always do," you stared into his ocean eyes with heart eyes in your own. as you stared into armin's eyes, he stared into your drunken ones, while your hands fiddled with the button of his trousers. "please, baby? just for me?" you pouted, staring up at him. how could he say no? getting his face wet with your slick was the best part of his day. it was all he thought about, all he dreamt about, all he wanted to be honest.

he bent you over the counter, before scrunching up your dress. "no panties? what a nasty girl," he snickered.

"watch yourself armin, or say goodbye to this pussy," you wiggled your ass as he watched your cunt drip slick all over the place.

armin was a messy eater. as if your pussy wasn't messy enough on it's own. he knew it was a matter of time before your slick would flood the room, and there was only one thing he knew he had to do.

eat you out to completion.

and eat is what he did. his hands stayed spreading your cheeks apart, slapping and jiggling the muscle. he stayed moaning into your sweet hole, tongue piercing flicking against your perked up clit. he groaned into your cunt as you moaned out loud. you had no reason to muffle your moans because of the loud music blaring. his face dug impossibly deeper into your tight hole, with his nose poked at your puckering hole. if its one thing armin knew, it was that playing with your winking hole made you gush.

you squealed out loud while his tongue kept flicking at your clit and he thumbed on your asshole. "armin! tha's nasty," you hummed out as his thumb popped into your tight hole. "that's how you like it, no?" he pulled away and slapped your ass. he sucked on your lips before tonguing your pussy down, stretching it open. as his tongue entered inside, you could feel the ball of the piercing inside your clenching walls all while his thumb stayed in your butt.

you clenched impossibly tight around his tongue, sobbing out loud. it was too much, but nothing you couldn't handle. it was nothing you haven't handled before. "armin!" you squealed loudly. you moaned out loud making him groan even louder. his hands squeezed your cheeks. "fuck, m'cummin! s'too quick!" you whined, wiggling your butt away from his grasp. at least, trying to. his grip tightened hard, giving you no choice but to take his munching. bit by bit.

you didn't know if it was the alcohol in your system, or the blunt you smoked earlier, but you could feel every part of his slick, sharp tongue dragging itself all over your wet pussy. sounds of slurping wetness resounded so loudly, you could swear it would drown out the music. your mouth started watering, with every inch you got closer to your orgasm. "shake it," he moaned out.

"what?" you sounded genuinely confused.

"you heard me. shake your ass," and so you did, without thinking. if only you could see how armin smiled like a fool behind you, huge hearts replacing his pupils. at this point, he was more than desperate to taste the sweetness of your cum on his tongue. he shoved two fingers into your clenching hole before immediately working them in. his lips wrapped around your clit while his two fingers played with your pussy. at this point, you could barely concentrate and hold yourself up while he grinned at your vulnerable state. you started clawing for something to hold, trying hard to run away from his assault on your cunt.

and then his fingers found it. he knew, because then you started screaming and your leg was twitching. like, actual screaming. like, blood curdling screams. all he felt was your cunt clench incredibly hard around his two fingers before you gushed all over him, soaking his face. "oh armin!" you yelled, tearing up. the substances flowing in your system heightened your senses, making you even more sensitive and armin was eating it all up. literally.

"fuck baby, you're so good to me," you whined out loud, as he moved away from your cunt. "armin i want you to fuck me," you ordered, turning around to face him. armin stood up now, his face messy with your slick, blushing hard. you wrapped your legs around him, staring expectantly. "well? don't tell me you're scared?" you teased knowing that your pussy was throbbing from overstimulation.

you cooed, while your fingers toyed with armin's button, pulling down the trousers. "now you're being shy? seriously?" armin patterned up, replacing your hands with his own as he pulled down his boxers. his cock strung up.

it stood, tall and proud, the tip leaking profusely. it was a bright strawberry pink. his cock was long and skinny, and looked like it could reach deep inside of you. it curved upwards as if it were showing off. your cunt clenched around empty air and your mouth watered. you wanted to be stuffed by him. he stood, hand rubbing his neck as he shyly chuckled. you adjusted yourself onto the counter, lifting your legs up so that you were completely spread open for armin to see. your slick cunt dripped all over the surface as your clit visibly throbbed. you took your left hand, spreading your lips apart, the nasty sound of drenched pussy lips making armin sigh out.

he watched as your hole practically invited him in, and started to get impatient. "what are you waiting for, pretty boy?" your breathed. armin hooked your legs and pushed them up to your ears. you could feel his cock rubbing up against your cunt as you bucked your hips. "come on, please..." you whined, while he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your hole.

he winced as he felt you clench around his throbbing tip, he could damn near feel the tears in his eyes. despite his ability to munch on your cunt until you fell asleep, actual penetration was completely different. at least when he was eating you out, it was easy to muffle his moans when he was face deep in your cunt, but now? there was no hiding his whines.

he pushed his cock through the rings of your gummy walls, reaching deep. the stretch was delicious, and you swear you could've cum all over his long cock. "armin, fuck," you moaned out, hands placed onto his chest. he finally bottomed out, his pulsing cock throbbing inside of your pulsating hole. you clenched and couldn't stop while he tried to push in deeper. he whimpered out loud before looking down at where the two of you were connected.

"fuck, Y/N? you feel so good around me," he sobbed. he couldn't move. he knew if he moved, he would've came inside of you and made a fool of himself. "gimme a minute," he grunted, his fingers wrapped around your legs that kept you in place. like i said, he had that weird strength.

he instantly came closer to your body, basically crushing you, so that you could feel him deeper. his bob swayed in your face, as he practically humped you. armin finally found the courage to start moving inside, his cock bumping your cervix.

he whined as your hands started pulling his hair, making him tear up. "fuck, armin..." his thrusts becoming more desperate and intimate, causing your legs to shake. the tighter you clenched, the more erratic his thrusts became. honestly, he was like a dog in heat, desperate.

armin was smart, like really smart. this time, he thrusts again, but more slow and deliberate. you stopped your sighing and small moans, head thrown back. he grinded his cock head into your sloppy cunt. you closed your eyes bracing yourself for whatever fuckary he had up his ass. your back arched, face scrunched and your eyes teared up. "what are you doing?" you asked.

armin shushed you with what little strength he had. the fringe of his bob stuck to his head. you had to give it to him, as wacky as his haircut was, he had such beautiful thick hair. his face scrunched up in concentration, trying his hardest to find that spot. your g-spot.

armin had watched enough porn to know what squirting was. sure, he could eat you out until you sobbed all night, or fingered your pussy until your squeal and scream, but he wanted to dick you down until you couldn't stop squirting. and he was gonna do it, if it was the last thing he would do. to be completely drenched in your nasty juices that he'd happily drown in.

one more calculated thrust from the nerd, and that's where he found it. he knew because he made that grunt you do when he's made you feel especially good. armin practically started glowing as he realised that he's actually found your g-spot. he knew that this was the perfect trick to make you squirt everywhere. "armin, move!" you screamed, tearfully, a ring of thick cream leaking on his base. a sensation - unfamiliar - built up inside of you as he kept hitting that same spot over and over. you tried hard to move him away, the pleasure becoming more and more overwhelming for you ( and himself ), pushing on his stomach with no avail.

"armin, pull out, please! just a bit, it's too deep," you groaned out tears streaming down your face. "oh fuck!" you whined. you babbled senselessly, "let it out, please, i wanna hear you," he whimpered out. and then he saw it. your clit, practically gleaming at him. one of his hands started playing at your clit as you struggled to breathe. you couldn't even moan out his name as you tried so hard to wriggle out of his grasps. your hands flew at his face in attempt to push him away, doing everything you could.

"armin, you have to move, m'gonna pee!" he smirked, completely ignoring your plea's if it meant you'd squirt all over him. "my-" a guttural moan left your throat. you pushed at his abdomen, once more as you gushed all over him, his cock suddenly leaking everywhere. hot cum spurted out of the tip of his cock, while streams of squirt splashed all over him. you squirmed, trying to get out of his harsh grip. while you had quietened down, armin's moaned hadn't, in fact this is the loudest you've heard him.

he practically sobbed, as you watched him hump the air. by now, his hand had left your clit and you had the bright idea to overstimulate him. you know, give him a taste of his own medicine. you slapped his hand away and started rubbing at the tip of his cock vigorously. "Y/N! wait...!" he whined out loud, his hand shaking as he full on sobbed shamelessly. you egged him on as you tried gaining back your composure after the world shattering orgasm he just gave you.

his hips bucked into your hand, almost pathetically, his glasses fogging up as he came again all over your hand this time. "fuck Y/N, you're killing me!" you could barely keep it together, watching him pathetically fall apart in your hands like putty, as if you weren't doing the same earlier.

armin leaned against the counter top while you both worked on catching your breaths.

"you shouldn't trust eren. he's not a good man," he said, in between breaths. "yeah, he doesn't make me cum as hard as you do," you giggled. yet armin didn't laugh. you slapped his shoulder: "i was kidding,"

"i'm not. i...i don't like seeing you with other guys you know," he whispered, somewhat ashamed.

"yeah, sure ok," you agreed.

"why don't we go back and you can sit on my face," he suggested as you pulled your dress down and tried stabilising yourself again while armin pulled up his trousers. "where did you learn about squirting by the way...?" you enquired.

"porn," he chuckled adjusting his glasses, as the two of you left the bathroom. you cussed him out for being such a loser while he whined some bullshit in your ear about how mean you were and that men had needs, blah blah blah.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, dubcon, hybrid au, size difference

fem reader

Thinking up so many tasty tidbits about hybrid au… 

Being a normal human girl mating a beast and constantly needing to plant your hands at your hips and give him a firm “no” as though speaking down to an actual dog – and how fucking odd it is to him that you express free will as though you shouldn’t naturally submit to him like a normal female would when approached by a male – bearing your wet pussy for him and just begging him to breed you full...

It’s only natural for your beast boyfriend to mount you without asking – like you’re only two animals mating out in the wild. So you can imagine the dumbfounded look slapped on his face when you refuse – saying you’re busy with your hand placed on his chest, giving him a push that doesn't make him budge but manages to make his tail droop until it’s sweeping the floor. 

It’s so unnatural to him. You’re a female, and he’s a bull. You should be bending over the second you see him, not ignore him – and definitely not reject him.

Like... he expects you to roll over and let him make you his bitch, but instead, you’re walking circles around him while laying down something you call “ground rules.” Telling him he has to stop biting your neck unless he wants to wear a muscle – that he has to shower at least once every other day or else you won’t touch him – and that he has to stop scenting you with that heady musk that smells of sweaty ballsack and dickcheese oryou’re not letting him touch you at all.

It all makes him pout with a gruff – almost growling at you, thinking a weakling like you should have no say over an alpha like him. And yet he’s on his knees for a taste of your pussy at the end of every day despite it – acting as though he cannot rest without it, as though he would starve to death.

In the end, he does everything you ask – just like a tamed pet. It’s cute.

He was so, so very skeptical when you’d convinced him to allow you to be on top for once. He was so rigid, lying there, belly-up – watching your every move with a predator’s glare as though he planned to pounce on you at any given moment – looking a mix of confused and aroused when you rolled your hips and rode him – hissing and grumbling beneath his breath as though he didn’t exactly know what to do with himself except lie there and take it. 

But although you’re able to convince him of most things, there are still those instincts you’ll never win against…

The way he just huffs and ignores you when you tell him to pull out instead of flooding your womb with cum – kneading his cock into your deepest parts while pinning you flat in a mating press that has your feet going behind your head. 

Not to mention that time you tried making him wear a condom – to which he only snorted as if it were some bad joke he didn’t find funny – rearing your cunt with his raw cock leaking pre, telling you to stop fooling around and start begging to be bred full of his pups like a good bitch.

BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji,

DS – Sanemi, Akaza, Inosuke, Genya

[zepskies]

IF I STAY - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Yes, here’s another firefighter AU! Based on a request from one of my lovely Patreon members: @redhoodieone. She requested pretty much all the major beats of this story, so hopefully I did her request justice! This is also partially inspired by Fools Rush In, a beautiful movie with Salma Hayek and Matthew Perry (Rest in Peace, King).

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis

Word Count: 8.7K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, thick thirty, hints of body insecurity, but also body appreciation, angst, and hurt/comfort.

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 1: Fools Rush In

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. Your gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

It starts at Sam Winchester’s joint bachelor-bachelorette party at a nice hotel downtown. He and Eileen aren't the "strippers and coke" kind of party couple. They're more the "wine and brie en croute with pickled olives" on the expensive crackers you can't afford—kind of couple.

They look perfectly in love, if a bit long-suffering while Dean gives a hilarious, somewhat inappropriate, but still ultimately heartwarming toast to their happiness. After lowering the glass of champagne from his lips, his gaze catches on yours in the crowd. You suck in a subtle breath. 

Technically you’ve met him already, being one of Eileen’s bridesmaids, but there’s something about his green eyes that pin you to the floor. When he hands over the mic to Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, his head turning away from you to offer her a smile breaks the spell. It allows you to breathe.

Dean later finds you by the bar. You’re drinking a rum and coke with your slice of cake, trying not to get a single crumb on your dress. You've put a lot of work into affording it, let alone fitting in it. He leans his elbows casually on the counter and looks over at you.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he nods at you with a smile, subtly taking you in first. Then, his eyes go to your plate. “Ooh, red velvet. Gotta get me some of that.”

You smile back at him. “It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, looks good in your hand,” he says, adding a teasing wink for good measure.

You don't know why that does it for you, but a half-flattered, half-nervous laugh tumbles out of your mouth. Sam has warned you before about Dean. Apparently his older brother is a bit of a flirt; a ladies’ man.

A man whore, are the words Eileen used.

You’re honestly surprised he’s talking to you when Eileen’s other bridesmaids, Lisa and Jo, are sipping martinis together down at the other end of the bar. Guess they didn’t want cake.

They look beautiful in their lithe, strapless little cocktail dresses. You’ve had to give up chocolate, bread, and cheese for three months straight to fit into this dress, something slinky and red that drapes over your thicker, curvy figure. But you’re proud of the fact that you’re letting yourself eat cake tonight, even though you’ve often felt like Mrs. Doubtfire while standing for pictures next to Lisa and Jo.

They’re Eileen’s friends, not so much your crowd. No matter how much you’ve tried to get to know them while helping the wedding planning in whatever way you can, you still get a high school clique vibe from the women, if with more “polite smiles.” Then they’ll typically go back to talking about crystal centerpieces—or whatever in-depth conversation they were having before you were there. 

But right now, Dean’s focus is on you. When he asks you more about yourself, you tell him about recently earning an elementary education degree.

“Ah, but you already knew that, because Sam told you we graduated college together,” you realize, with warmth tingeing your cheeks. That subject came up pretty quickly when he introduced you to his brother.

Dean’s smile confirms your suspicions, so you just keep filling the silence on reflex.

“Well, I actually just started teaching my first ever semester of second graders. They’re a bit of a handful, but overall, they’re really sweet.” Your smile falters. “Except for this one kid who likes to put little tacks on my chair. He’s kind of a menace, but I think if I bribe him with enough lollipops, he’ll give it a rest. I mean, it’s a behavioral issue and I should probably call his parents. But it's kind of hard to tell them their son is trying to make my ass into a pincushion."

Dean's laugh comes out in a sharp burst, like he wasn't expecting what just came out of your mouth. You didn't either, honestly. You giggle more out of embarrassment, ducking your head.

"He’s in second grade, you know?" you say, in between laughter. "I don't think that little footnote needs to end up on his permanent record. But then there's Micah. He's so friggin' smart. He can read at the fifth grade level already. Can you believe that? And I know I'm not supposed to have favorites, but his grades on his spelling tests get him a spot in the comfy bean bag chair pretty much every Friday. Honestly, I think that's what I like about working with kids. I get to see that spark on their face when something just finally clicks for them. Their little faces get all bright and happy and…ugh. God, I'm sorry. I'm rambling, right?”

You stop yourself with a hand sliding over your mouth, not quite covering your smile of embarrassment.

Dean’s grin just widens, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

"It's okay. I kinda like it," he teases.

You duck your head, biting your lip against a groan. He chuckles and reaches out for your hand, earning your nervous glance. He quirks his head.

“Hey, you're passionate about what you do, helping kids. That's nothin' to be ashamed of,” he says, brushing his thumb over your hand. “But sweetheart, I gotta ask. Am I making you nervous or something?”

God, yes, you think, especially at that sweetheart thing. It’s making your heartbeat tick up a syncopated rhythm, but you shake your head, biting the straw of your rum and coke.

“No, not at all,” you say, in a hopefully “breezy” kind of way. You touch your fingers to his wrist. “Tell me about you though. Sam mentioned that you’re a firefighter?”

“Ah, yeah. Firefighter in training,” he says, with a more genuine smile.

He just started at the Fire Academy, and he tells you about all the drills he’s had to learn and all the training he’s had to do to be able to keep up with his classes. You subtly eye him while you sip at your drink, and you notice the crisp cut of his buttoned-down shirt and leather jacket, the definition of muscle across his thighs under the slacks, even while he casually sits.

Your gaze subtly travels down his long bowed legs, smart dress shoes. His cologne is woody and masculine, but not overpowering; maybe bergemot and sandalwood. It pleasantly wafts under your nose every time he gestures with his hands while he talks.

“Aw man, I can’t hold out anymore. I think I need to get me some of that cake before it’s gone,” he says, getting up from his chair.

You’re a bit disappointed that he’s leaving, until he stops short.

“You want another piece?” he offers, gesturing at your empty plate that’s been resting on the counter.

You blink in surprise, but you shake your head. “Oh, no. I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? It’s a party,” Dean reasons. His grin is too damn infectious. It has you smiling, and begrudgingly agreeing.

Not only does he bring you more cake, but you watch him eat three whole slices before he asks you to dance.

The rest of it flashes through your mind like strobe lights—the way he’d started small and respectful with his larger hand closed over yours and the other along the curve of your waist. He guided you closer and closer, until you were turned around into his arms, and you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

You felt his lips teasing your skin. Then those hands tantalizingly drifted down your every soft curve, as if showing you a preview of everything he could do to you, and every way he’d make you come apart. You believed him.

And when he whispered in your ear, asking if he could take you home, you let him.

You let him drive you in that big black piece of history he drives. Used to be my dad’s car, he said. A Chevy something. You couldn’t really remember much when his hand was drifting up and down your thigh like that.

His presence burned hot at your back when you two eventually got to the front door of your apartment, your hands just barely shaking as you got the key in. Twist and click—

He waited until you flipped the lights on. Then he turned you around slowly in his arms and pulled you in close, all the while asking you with his eyes and raised brows. This okay? You want this?

“Do I still make you nervous?” he asked, his lips twitching at a smile when yours do.

You nodded, uttering a small giggle. “In a good way.”

That was when he finally kissed you, hot and slow, like he meant to devour you whole. He moaned at the taste of you, at the feel of your ass squeezed in his hands. You clung onto him strong, breathing into his kiss and trying to meet every single demand of his lips.

It soon became a fiery tear to your bedroom, one lamp flicked on, hot breaths and nice clothes crumpled to the floor. You didn’t feel self-conscious even once when he guided you under him on the bed, because he wasted no time in taking you apart, inch by inch.

His lips kissed and licked and sucked a burning trail down your neck, over your collarbone and between your breasts. You felt his hardened length trapped between your bodies while his hands explored you, teasing your breasts and sensitive nipples, and he mapped his way down with his lips.

You explored every part of him you could—every dip of muscle, firm shoulders and the slopes of his back, and then back up to tangle in his hair. Your heated gasps and whimpers filled the room when his sinful mouth found what it was looking for between your legs.

It wasn’t often that you had a strong pair of shoulders to rest your thighs on, but Dean’s grip was hard enough to leave deep fingerprints of pressure on each thigh while he slipped his tongue through your folds and feasted on you.

“D-Dean, oh God,” you gasped. Every sound you made was a sensuous symphony in his ears, washing over his skin and making the well of his desire churn hot in his lower belly. He had to roll his hips into the mattress for some relief for his aching cock, even while he moved his mouth up to your clit, circling the swollen bud with his tongue. He had enough room to slip two fingers deep inside your sopping wet channel, exploring you deeply, stroking and twisting to find what you needed.

Your thighs trembled and squeezed tight on either side of his head. When he sucked your clit tight between his lips, you uttered as gasping moan as that coil snapped its release. Your inner walls fluttered around his fingers. Yours clenched tightly in his hair, threatening to rip out a few strands.

Dean stroked you all through your first orgasm, giving slower licks to your clit. He seemed to sense when you couldn’t handle anymore though. You tugged more sharply on his hair, and he finally pulled away, moving back up your body to gauge your reaction.

You’d collapsed boneless against the bed, but you still managed to smile up at him as you caught your breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked. But his self-satisfied grin almost made you laugh. You took his glistening face between your hands and pulled him down for a grateful kiss.

After a moment to savor your lips, he broke away for a second to catch his breath himself. You stroked his back all the while.

“You know, for a minute down there, I thought you might not let me come back up,” he teased.

You choked on a laugh, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Honestly wouldn’t have minded if you did suffocate me,” he chuckled, accompanied by a slap to your left ass cheek. You squealed, and blushed hotly at the way he was grinning down at you.

“Ready for more, baby? Or you want to call it a night?” he asked. His tone was playful, but it was actually a serious question. You blinked in surprise. You’d never had a guy be this, well…generous, and not expect anything in return, especially not for just a hookup.

But you shook your head and sat up, slipping a hand behind Dean’s neck. After a beat of hesitation, you guided him down to you for a slow, sensuous kiss.

“No, I don’t want to call it a night,” you whispered. Your hand drifted down his bare chest, and lower still. You showed him just how well you could return the favor.

And now, come the morning, you’re blushing down to your neck as each scene flashes through your mind. You feel the ghost of his hands all over your body, and how you’d never quite felt quite as bold and sexy and beautiful with a near stranger as you had with Dean effing Winchester. Your best friend’s brother.

You begin to worry your bottom lip with your teeth. How the hell are you going to tell Sam? Especially after he warned you about exactly this. Plus, there’s a reason you don’t typically do the one-night stand thing, and this has the potential to become something very complicated.

You know what, it’s fine! you think. We’re two consenting adults. We’re both single. And maybe…maybe it could be more than a hookup. Maybe we can see each other again, see where it goes.

“What’re you thinking so hard about?” Dean says, his voice croaking with sleep.

You look down at him in surprise. His eyes have cracked open and he has your hand captive, stopping you from continuing to idly trace patterns on his bare chest. You smile in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you say. Again, you bite your lower lip. “Um, good morning.”

“Morning, sweetheart,” he grins lazily. “You sure wore me out last night.”

Your smile becomes more genuine, even if you turn your face away somewhat shyly.

“Aw, don’t do that,” Dean says. He slides his hand up your arm and behind your neck, tangling into your already tangled hair when he guides you down to his lips for a kiss. “You were awesome.”

You giggle against his lips. “Really?”

“Hell, yeah,” he says, kissing you again.

You shake your head a little. “You were…”

Amazing. Unbelievable. Probably the best night I’ve ever had.

“Perfect,” you decide. Because it’s the truth. The word comes out of your mouth before you can filter yourself though, making you pause. Dean does too, but after a beat, he slowly smiles.

“Oh yeah?” he asks.

You lick your lips, and you nod. “Definitely.”

“Well, then,” he says. His hand moves down to squeeze your hip. “You down for a repeat performance?”

You smile. “Only if I get a turn.”

Bracing your hands on his chest, you slide your thigh across his lap so you can straddle his hips. Dean grins and goes along with your idea. He gets a nice healthy handful of your thighs and helps settle you on top of him. But first, he reaches over into your nightstand drawer and finds another condom, ripping it open with his teeth.

Just like you did for him last night, you take the packet, as well as his generous length in your hands. You gently stroke him to full mast, smiling pleased at his groan of pleasure. Then you carefully fit the condom over him.

“You’re so gentle with me,” he teases. 

“Just returning the favor,” you quip, just before you position him at your wet entrance. Slowly, you sink down over his cock.

You both moan at the feeling of him stretching you again, warm and thick and fitting perfectly nestled deep inside. There had been moments last night where he wasn’t all that gentle, actually, but his passion had only spurred yours on more. You know you’ll probably find fingerprint marks on your thighs and ass, but it’s fucking worth it, you think, as you begin to bob a rocking rhythm that serves you both.

Dean arches his back underneath you, his knees coming up to press against your ass.

“Goddamn, baby. Givin’ me quite a show,” he says, in a panting voice that’s deep as sin.

You utter a breathy laugh.

Dean means it though. He’s enjoying the way you brush your hair out of your face, your beautiful tits in his face while you truly let loose for him. He guides you by the stronghold he has on your hips, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he ruts up into you, meeting your thrusts.

Your breath quickens, your nails digging into his chest on reflex, and your heart races as that delicious pleasure builds. But when Dean snakes a hand between you and further parts your folds to massage tight circles over your clit, your vision flashes white. You utter a scream of pleasure on his name, your inner walls choking him tight as you throb around his cock. His release hits him like a goddamn freight train.

“Aw, fuck,” he grunts.

He slams your hips down hard, making your thighs slap against his. A ragged groan escapes him in a rush. His hands move to your thighs just under your ass, where his fingers press into flesh hard enough to leave forensic ID, giving him leverage to bury himself deep into your pussy as he spills a hot release into the condom.

Goddamn…

He can almost imagine that he’s coming free inside you, that you’re milking his cock for every drop, until there’s nothing left for him to give.

The thought surprises him. It almost takes him out of the moment, honestly. That’s not a thought he’s ever had before—not with a woman he barely knows (which is most of his hookups, if he’s honest).

In that delicious, fractious moment just after it hits, it’s like those few seconds are suspended in zero gravity. Your arms are shaking, and your forced to collapse against his chest. Dean welcomes you there for a little while, letting you come down while he smooths a hand over your hair.

Though he can't help the urge to let his big hand drift down over your dewy skin, down the gentle slope of your back and over the curve of your generous ass. He gives one cheek a teasing slap. The sound echoes in the room.

"Goddamn perfect ass," he says roughly, smirking at your squeal. You end up grinning hard against his neck.

"'S that my new nickname?" you quip.

He chuckles deeply, moving you along with his chest. "Hell, sweetheart, if you want it to be."

Eventually, you lean back to give him a smile and one last kiss before you pull away from him. You slip off his lap to find your robe, at least. You definitely need a shower.

“So I’m thinking, after we get cleaned up, I could make us some breakfast,” you offer. “Or if you want, maybe we could go somewhere. I know a little diner down the block.”

“I like the sound of food,” Dean agrees with a smile. Ge reaches over for his phone on the nightstand, to check the time. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

He has to get his ass over to the Fire Academy. He has class in barely twenty minutes.

He tears out of bed and nearly trips on the coiled sheets.

“Sorry. Gonna need to take a raincheck,” he says. He hurries to find his clothes strewn all over your bedside floor.

“What’s the matter?” you ask with wide eyes. You cross your arms under your breasts, but it’s more like you’re hugging yourself over your robe. You watch him tear through your bedroom in a tempest of movement.

Dean spares you a glance, but not much else as he yanks up his slacks and belt and dress shirt.

“Gotta get to class,” he confesses. Thank God he has his uniform in the trunk of his car for exactly these kinds of emergencies. He grabs his phone, wallet, and keys, and quickly kisses you on the cheek. He gazes down at you apologetically. “Sorry I gotta cut and run, sweetheart, but it’s been fun.”

Your smile barely reaches your eyes. He’s pressed for time, but he still notices.

He slows himself down and cups your cheek. “Hey.”

He gets your pretty eyes looking up at him, and he gives you a real kiss, nice and slow. He cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb across your skin.

“Thanks,” he says. His now familiar grin manages to make you smile. “And I mean that.”

You shake your head at him. “Okay go, Mr. Future Fireman. Be safe out there, okay?”

He gives you a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

You can’t help but laugh. This guy’s too much. But you don't think you've had this much fun having sex in...

All right, let's not put a timeframe on it.

You watch him leave your apartment, even though you have a sinking feeling in your chest. You knew this was just a hookup for him, for both of you. Part of you just couldn’t help hoping that it could’ve led to something more. 

Dean means to call you.

He really does.

After that truly awesome, you shook me all night long, kind of a night, he thinks about you more than he’d like to admit over the next few weeks. However, he finds himself locked into his training. He’s so close to finishing strong and earning his badge, he just can’t afford any more distractions.

Still, he should’ve known that Sam would find out—either through Eileen, or through you directly. He also should’ve expected the way his brother let him have it.

“And you didn’t even fucking call her. See? This is why I don’t set you up with any of my friends anymore,” Sam bitches at him from his side of the small two-seater dinner table. They still share an apartment, though in just a month and a half, Sam’s going to be moving out. He and Eileen already found a house that they’re moving into after the wedding.

“Look, I was going to call her, man. They’ve just been bustin’ my ass at the Academy!” Dean argues.

“Bullshit.” Sam levels him with the same finger that holds his beer.

Dean’s brows raise, high and annoyed. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I’m calling bullshit. Because if you really liked her, respected her, and respected me, you would’ve made the time,” Sam says.

That falls heavy between the brothers for a moment while they eat their pizza.

“Look, I know her. She doesn’t do hookups that often, which means…she probably liked you,” Sam adds. “And honestly, when are you going to give it a real try with someone? You can only visit that free clinic so many times.”

Dean shoots him a glare. He’s had a clean bill of health from said clinic for six months straight.

“Jesus Christ. Enough, all right?” he grouses. “What’re you, Mom?”

“I’m just saying,” Sam says, lowering his crust to the plate. He levels his brother with a more earnest look, lightening up from his anger. “Look, if it’s about what happened to Dad—”

“What, you mean the way he drank himself to death after Mom died?” Dean says. His voice cuts through whatever softball glove Sam is trying to handle him with. “You think that’s the kind of thing I should be looking for in my life?”

“Oh, and what, do you think I’m making a mistake marrying Eileen?” Sam counters.

Dean sighs, shaking his head. “Damn it, don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe that kind of life—the house, the wife, the 2.5 kids and the dog. Maybe that’s just not my life, okay?”

Sam gives him a long look. He lets go of a deep breath, and he shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “If you think hooking up night after night for the rest of your life is going to make you happy, then fine.”

Dean nods, glad that they can put an end to this little After School Special.

“Okay.”

Still, he can’t finish his third slice of pizza. He keeps picturing your face when he left you that morning. No matter how you tried to hide it, he still saw the tinge of disappointment in your eyes. It brews something uncomfortable in his stomach, and a sting in his chest.

You’re eating lunch alone in your classroom, finally on your break, when an unfamiliar number flashes across your phone screen. You look down at it in confusion, but with all the caterers and florists and things you’ve helped Eileen with on the wedding, you figure it could be important. You pick up the call and greet whoever’s on the line.

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?”

You drop your ham and cheese on your keyboard, gaping in surprise.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he chuckles slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s been a minute.”

You frown, because you’re confused more than anything.

“Yeah, like almost a month,” you reply. You put the call on speaker so you can grab up your sandwich and quickly brush off the crumbs from your keyboard. You struggle to say something cool, clever, sexy even. “I’m okay. Just, um…what’s up?”

Smooth, real smooth. You cover your eyes with your hand.

“Nothin’, I was just thinking of that night,” he says. “I had a good time.”

Your frown deepens, despite the beginning of a blush warming your cheeks. If he’s calling you just for another hookup…

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.”

And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

“I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

That part throws you though, you’re not going to lie. What, is this a Netflix and chill situation—with a side of fries?

You consider it. You weigh pros and cons at a frightening speed in your mind, almost like Sherlock Holmes contemplating the layout of a dead body and deducing within moments that his wife committed the murder, despite the man no longer wearing a ring.

You want to let yourself be bold and spontaneous and carefree...but it's just not who you are at your core. You're a planner, a cautious person who looks three ways before crossing the street. Letting Dean take you home that night was certainly one of the most spontaneous, wild things you've done since your friends took you out to a strip club after you aced your final round of exams back in college.

(Sam hadn't been there that night, but he did get an embarrassing drunken text from you at 3:00 a.m., along with a few shame-ridden pictures fueled by questionable substances. Yes, he still had the evidence.)

You just don't know if it's smart to let yourself hookup with Dean again. Mostly because you know your heart has the tendency to get attached, no matter how much you warn it not to.

“You know, Dean, I’m pretty busy with my job right now. I just started here a couple of months ago, and I think I just need to focus on that right now,” you say. Part of it isn’t a lie, even though your soft heart is stinging.

“Ah, okay. Yeah. I get that,” he says. You hear his disappointment too. “But I just need to say, I really am sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Your lips tug at a smile. “It’s okay, Dean. Look, you’re Sam’s brother. I just feel like, maybe it’s better if you and I stay friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Dean says wryly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I don’t have three rounds of steamy hot sex with any of my friends.”

Your blush comes swiftly again, burning in your cheeks.

“Be that as it may,” you say, “I just don’t want to do anything that will distract from Sam and Eileen’s wedding.”

“Oh, I’m a distraction, huh?” Dean says flirtatiously. 

You begin to smile in earnest. “I think you know damn well what you are, Dean Winchester.”

His deep chuckle practically resonates through the phone and into your chest, going straight down to your pussy. You clench on nothing just at the sound of his voice, making you cross your legs under your skirt. Dear God…

How are you supposed to be even remotely normal around this man now? 

But for Sam’s sake (and your own), you’ll have to try. 

Two months later, Dean has taken Sam’s dating advice to heart. A week or so after you turned him down, he ran into Lisa Braeden, Eileen’s Maid of Honor, while he was at the grocery store buying beer and Twizzlers. She was a smart, sharp, sexy brunette. A yoga instructor, he soon found out. So he took a chance on asking her out. They’ve been going slow and steady ever since. 

Dean hasn’t heard from you since the rehearsal dinner, but he sees you again at his brother’s wedding. All the bridesmaids are wearing long, royal blue dresses that drape off the shoulders and hug the bust and waist, flaring gently at the skirt. Lisa and Jo wear it beautifully, their hair perfectly smooth and coiled. 

But when you step out into the hall outside the church ballroom to join them, Dean actually pauses in what he’s saying to his brother. He nearly double takes when you enter his line of vision—mostly because he hasn’t seen you in a dress since that night. You were sexy as hell then, a lady in red. 

Today, you’re absolutely stunning. 

After greeting Sam with a warm hug, you turn to him with a nervous kind of smile. “H-Hey, Dean.”

With that, he snaps out of it. Dean smiles, eyes crinkling, and goes over to give you a hug as well.

“Good to see you,” he says, trying not to inhale too much of your nice perfume. It’s even in your hair.

“You too,” you reply. Your smile is a little brighter, more genuine. Though there’s something behind your eyes that he can’t quite place.

What he doesn’t notice is the way Lisa is watching you and her boyfriend, a hint of suspicion on her face.

You do though. You pull away from Dean and assemble into a line with Lisa at the helm. As the Best Man, Dean stands with her, followed by Jo and Brady, another one of Sam’s buddies. You and Benny bring up the rear. Benny’s dad used to work with John, Sam and Dean’s father, on the police force.

According to Sam, John Winchester worked a beat for twenty-six years before his liver finally gave out on him. Dean almost went to the Police Academy to follow in his dad’s footsteps, but Benny, already working his way up to Lieutenant, suggested Dean become a smoke eater instead. The suggestion stuck.

Benny Lafitte is slightly shorter than Dean, but just as broad-shouldered, his auburn beard neatly trimmed. Even though you might’ve thought he was rough around the edges at first, his kind blue eyes spoke the contrary. He offers you his arm like a gentleman.

“Well aren't I lucky, getting the prettiest girl on my arm,” he says, with a charming smile.

You smile, and even begin to blush at the way he subtly takes note of you from head to toe.

“Well, thank you. You’re very handsome yourself. Although, hold on.” You slip your arm out of his for a moment so that you can fix his tie. It’s slightly crooked. You make sure that it lays flat under his collar, smoothing down all the edges and picking off any small dust particles that landed on his collar. Benny watches you with an indulgent smile.

“Am I good?” he asks.

“Very,” you reply.

“I appreciate it, thank you,” he says. You don’t know if he means to sound flirtatious, but his voice is a deep drawl that washes over you pleasantly. You find yourself blushing down to your neck as you slip your arm back around his.

You also don’t notice how Dean glances at you and Benny over his shoulder.

As much as you love Sam and Eileen, it’s difficult for you to keep your mind from spinning into fractals as the ceremony goes on. You can’t help but glance at Dean. He stands there behind Sam dutifully, but you see brotherly pride in Dean’s eyes, in his smile. It makes you smile too. You too love Sam like a brother, and it brings a well of happy tears to your eyes to watch him have his moment with his new wife.

It just also reminds you of what you need to do.

After the ceremony ends and the bridal party files out behind the bride and groom, you excuse yourself from Benny apologetically. You wait until Lisa and Jo go off to take pictures with Sam and Eileen, and you grab Dean’s wrist, pulling him aside.

“I need to talk to you,” you whisper.

Dean gives you a confused look. “They’re gonna need us for the pictures.”

“I know, but this is important,” you say. Your voice trembles with nerves, and so do your hands. Dean notices, frowning in concern. He grasps your arm to try and steady you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Just come with me,” you implore him. You take his hand and lead him into the women’s dressing room attached to the church sanctuary you all just came out of.

Dean raises his brows at the mess you and the rest of the bridesmaids have made of the room—pantyhose and makeup and clothing litter the floor and most available surfaces, while leftover breakfast sandwiches, grapes, salami, and cheddar cheese cubes are splayed out across one of the vanity counters. Dean is tempted to steal a morsel, but he focuses on you first.

You close and lock the door, which makes his brows raise high again. You know he has a girlfriend now, right?

“Uhh, look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but—”

You heave a sigh. Again, you take his hand and guide him to sit with you at the vanity. The old stools squeak, the overhead lights a bit too bright. This is not where you want to do this, but you can’t hold it in anymore.

“Dean, I’m pregnant,” you confess.

He freezes. His breath stills in his lungs. His eyes slowly widen as the words click in his brain.

“What?” His head tilts, as if he didn’t hear you right.

You squeeze his hand; to ground him or yourself, you’re not sure.

“I’m about two months pregnant. I found out last week.”

Dean swipes his free hand over his mouth while he tries to compute. He squeezes your hand, tighter and tighter. He points to himself.

“It’s…it’s me? It’s mine?”

You give him a weary smile. “You’re the only one I’ve been with in the last few months. It could only be you.”

Oh fuck. The man’s face begins to pale as he descends into shock.

“But we…I used a condom,” he reasons. “All the—all the times!”

You bite your lip. If you weren’t freaking the fuck out yourself, you’d probably be laughing right now. Granted, you’ve had a bit more time to process this than Dean.

“I know, I was there,” you reply, releasing yet another sigh. “One of them probably broke. That’s all I can think of… Honestly, Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just didn’t want to disrupt the ceremony or cause a scene before the wedding. But now you know.”

Dean falls silent then. He hasn’t let go of your hand, which you think is a decent sign. He’s likely forgotten that you’re still holding it as he stares off into the middle distance for several seconds.

Eventually, he shakes his head and returns his gaze to yours. He looks uncertain, his handsome face the true epitome of holy fucking shit.

You know the feeling.

But he asks the most important question.

“What do you want to do?”

Briefly you close your eyes as you take a breath. You squeeze his hand before you let go of him.

“I’ve thought about this a lot, and…I’m keeping the baby,” you tell him, though you raise placating hands. “I don’t want money, or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that it’s yours. How much you want to be in his or—or her life, that’s up to you.”

Dean takes a beat before he answers, but you don’t have to wait so long holding your breath.

“Okay. Okay, yeah. I’ll help you. Don’t worry,” he says.

And just like that, all the time you spent giving yourself pep talks for this, telling yourself that you’ll need to be strong no matter what he says, all of it crumbles into relief. Your lower lip trembles, and your body shudders as you break into tears. You try covering your face to hide your shame, but Dean grasps your shoulders.

“Hey, hey. It’s all right,” he says. He tentatively pulls you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You nod into his dress shirt, probably staining him with your running makeup.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

He holds you a bit tighter in response.

You and Dean agree to keep this to yourselves for now, at least until Sam and Eileen get back from their honeymoon. It’s difficult to explain why your eyes are all red and your makeup is smudged, but you promise Sam that you’ll tell him later. You know it’s pointless to lie to him though. As a future lawyer, his bullshit meter is far too high.

However, you also know that he’s half guessed it by the time you all make it to the reception. When you and Dean came out of that dressing room to join the bridal party for pictures, you're sure that you looked emotionally wrecked. Dean had looked pale as a sheet, his body coiled and tense, as willing himself to seem normal. Sam had clocked both of you with a raise of his brow, but he didn't say anything then, especially after you gave him a pleading look.

While Eileen greets her family without him for a moment, Sam pulls you aside. He notes your glass of diet coke, in a moderate sea of guests drinking champagne and cocktails.

“Are you okay?” he asks knowingly.

Tears well up in your eyes again. You don’t know if it’s your damn hormones going haywire, or just the way Sam asks you, with the love of a friend in his eyes. He squeezes your shoulder gently, prompting you with your name.

“Yeah, I think I will be,” you say.

"Is it the same reason you're not drinking?" he asks. "You and Dean earlier..."

You hesitantly confirm with a nod. Sam blows out a harsh sigh, raising folded hands to his mouth as he processes. You begin to look around on reflex, trying to see if anyone's watching you and Sam have this conversation in the middle of the reception. To your relief, everyone around you seems occupied with drinks, hours d'oeuvres and conversation.

“What did he say when you told him?” Sam asks. His gaze is firmer. You get the idea that if he doesn’t like what you tell him, then he’s about to go grab his brother by the ear himself.

You grab his wrist and give a placating squeeze. “He said he's going to help me, be there for me.”

“Damn right. So will I,” Sam nods, and glances back at Eileen, his new bride, with a smile. “We both will.”

“I know,” you nod as well. “I’ll be okay, Sam. You don’t have to worry so much. Just enjoy your wedding day. It’s the only one you’re gonna get. Well, you know…hopefully.”

You tease him with a wink.

Sam laughs, cupping your cheek. He kisses your other cheek.

“I love you, you know that right?” he says.

You give him a trembling smile through your tears.

Meanwhile, Dean has a beautiful woman in his arms. He turns Lisa on the dancefloor, trying not to trip on his own dress shoes, all the while knowing that his brain isn’t here in his body. It’s across the ballroom, watching you talk to Sam. Dean can tell that he knows, just in his Big Bird body language. He’d also recognize that accompanying Bitch Face anywhere.

“Dean, what’s wrong,” Lisa asks him, and not for the first time. She’s getting annoyed, he can tell. She finally looks over to where he keeps glancing, and she notices you with a frown. It’s also not the first time she’s caught him staring at you tonight.

“What was that earlier in the dressing room? She didn’t really get food poisoning, did she?” she asks pointedly. “What, did you two used to date or something?”

He gives a wan smile. “Yeah, kinda. We…had a thing once.”

“What kind of thing?”

Dean closes his eyes and tries to keep himself calm. He’s pretty sure if he tells her the truth right now, she’s going to find the nearest cocktail and dump it over his head.

But shit, here it goes.

“Well…”

After a long day at school, you drive over to Dean’s apartment. You’d agreed to meet there and wait for him to get off his shift at Firehouse 83, where he just started as a full-fledged firefighter on probation. When he gets home, he’s supposed to go with you to an important appointment with your OB-GYN. 

You were hoping he’d already be done with work by the time you got to his place, but Lisa's there to open the door for you. Apparently, he’d already given her a key.

Moving kind of fast, but okay, you think. A second later, you could’ve rolled your eyes at yourself. Pot, kettle, me. Got it.

Lisa greets you with a “polite” smile at best, but she does offer you water at least. You really can’t blame her for not liking you though. She found out her boyfriend got another woman pregnant right before he started dating her. Really, she has more balls than you for staying with him. You wouldn't put it past Dean to somehow have smooth-talked her into giving him a chance.

Or she really loves him. The thought sobers you as you lower yourself down to the couch beside her. Both of you sit there in silence for a moment, trying to figure out something to talk about.

“So, you’re what, six months pregnant?” she asks.

You correct her in thinly veiled annoyance. “Three months, actually.”

“Oh, wow. I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t know why I thought it was six.”

You have a feeling her awkward chuckle is fake, however. She knew good and damn well that you’re not six months pregnant. In her eyes, you must be the size of a parade float. 

“If you want, I can recommend a holistic diet to help you get your body back after the baby’s born,” Lisa offers. “No pills, no chemicals. Just good clean weight loss.”

You feign interest. Honestly, you’d like her to cram that offer right up her hooch.

“I can even give you a discount if you want to try out yoga,” she says. “It’s low impact, but you burn plenty of calories. I have a beginner’s class, not too strenuous. Even my least flexible clients manage to do the poses.”

Is that why Dean likes you? Because you’re bendy? Bet if I sat on you, you’d pop like a fucking balloon.

You hide all of these thoughts behind a “polite” smile of your own.

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” you reply. It’s non-committal enough, but hopefully it’ll get her off your back.

No such luck.

“You know, maintaining a healthy diet is really important for the baby’s health too,” Lisa adds. “It’s not just about avoided raw fish and dairy products. Oh, and processed food is obviously a no-go. Like, I’m sure you haven’t been hitting Taco Bell and all that stuff, right?”

As a matter of fact, you’ve been eating clean since long before you got pregnant. Not that it’s any business of hers whether you enjoy the occasional quesadilla or not.

Your temper snaps at its leash. You open your mouth to reply, when the front door unlocks and opens to Dean, stepping in through the threshold.

Thank God, you and Lisa both think. She gets up quicker from the couch than you, greeting her boyfriend with a kiss. You avert your gaze while you begin to get up yourself.

Dean reaches out to help you, grasping your arm in support. You shoot him a smile.

“I can still get up by myself,” you snip.

“Yeah, all right. Just in case,” he says with a smile. “Ready to go?”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s rock and roll,” you say, trying to hide your worsening mood. You’re exhausted, and irritated, and probably more than a little hangry. Except now, the idea of food just has you feeling guilty for even being hungry.

“Bye, hun. Hope you have a good appointment,” Lisa says, giving your shoulder a pat. You give her the most genuine smile you can muster as you thank her. It's possibly that she's one of those women who don't realize when they're being cunty, but you find it highly unlikely. She's too smart for that.

You follow Dean out the door and over to his car, big and black and sleek as you remember. You settle into the passenger seat with your arms crossed in silence. Dean switches the cassette to one of his favorite Led Zeppelin albums, though he notices your grumpy face.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

You give him some side-eye, but you’re reluctant to say anything. You just shake your head. As irritated as you are, you don’t want to be the friend who badmouths his girlfriend.

God, are we even friends? You wonder. Or am I just his knocked-up baby momma?

And again, you realize that this whole situation is probably hard for Lisa. You just don’t know if she’s jealous, or if she just…doesn’t like you.

“I’m okay,” you tell Dean.

He raises a skeptical brow. Looks like Sam isn’t the only one with a finely tuned bullshit meter.

“All right, how about this,” Dean says. “Let’s grab some burgers after this, huh? From your favorite spot. Shake Shack, right? Side of fries, frozen yogurt. I think I’ll get chocolate this time… Hmm, I doubt Lisa will want anything. She’s gone on an all-vegan kick or something.”

For one shining moment, you were happy and touched at his consideration. But now your body stills in your seat when you remember Lisa’s words. Tears well up in your eyes with a hot sting, and a sob escapes your throat.

Dean is cut off from thinking about getting extra bacon on his burger. He looks over at you in alarm. “H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

You scoff at him through your tears. “Are you kidding me? I can’t eat burgers anymore, Dean. I was already fucking fat. Now it’s just gonna get ridiculous.”

“What?” Dean’s brows knit together in confusion, along with his deepening frown. It gets worse as he tries to watch the road ahead, while at the same time, watching you continue to crumble.

“And after the birth, I’m just going to be an even fatter slob who can’t take care of her baby,” you sniffle and weep, trying in vain to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself.

Dean grits his teeth, his jaw twitching. Fuck it.

He turns the steering wheel sharp enough to startle a gasp out of you.

“Dean!”

He pulls the car over onto the side of the road, ignoring the honking SUV behind him. He shifts into Park and shuts off the radio—a big red flag, in your opinion. He’s upset too, and fucking serious, more so than you’ve ever seen him. You stare back at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve never once heard you say that you’re fat,” he says.

You blink at that, but eventually, you’re able to get your tongue to unstick from the roof of your mouth. You wipe the remnants of tears from your cheeks. Your face is already hot from your upset, now tinged with embarrassment.

“You haven’t known me very long,” you say quietly.

It doesn’t help. Dean’s jaw ticks again.

“Well, I’ve never thought it. Not even once,” he says. His jade green eyes are firmly set on yours, and he gestures between you and him with a pointed finger. “The reason you and I are here right now, is because the minute I saw you, I wanted you.”

One corner of his lips kicks upwards. “And that night, you didn’t disappoint.”

Your mouth falls open slightly. You don’t know how to respond, but you do know that a full blush is warming your face and neck. His words have power, and unbidden, they bloom a similar warmth between your legs. You swallow a bit nervously as you bite your bottom lip.

Dean glances down at your mouth when you do. He can remember what your pretty mouth did for him that night. Oh, he remembers all too well. He even had the shade of your lipstick streaked across his skin until he showered up at the firehouse.

He locks that all away when shifts the car back into Drive. If you’re going to make it to this appointment on time, he needs to get going.

And you both have to leave whatever that was right here by the side of the road.

AN: Woo! 😮‍💨 Yep, this is only Part 1, friends. Lisa is a bit different in this. My take was that without Ben in her life, she might be less mature and a bit more catty. As we get into Part 2 I'll leave it up to you to decide why she decides to stay with Dean, and perhaps more importantly, where the reader and Dean can go from here as co-parents. 🤔

If you enjoyed Part 1, please let me know!~

Next Time in Part 2:

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look, I…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours, and achingly familiar.

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: Part 2

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdeanwrites @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005

[slttygeto]

STICKY | TOJI & SHIU

note: is this the part 2 of that one toji and shiu threesome? yes. yes it is. 👀

cw: overstimulation, crying, oral, cunt slaps, toji is a little mean.

“rub her clit, she likes that.”

despite being so possessive of you, toji finds himself sitting on the other side of the L shaped couch while shiu pounded into you with everything he got. your soft “ah”s and the heart eyes you gave the man drilling his cock into you should’ve made toji mad, it should’ve angered him—but fuck, he was so turned on.

“fuck meee,” shiu grunts under his breath and his rough hands hold the back of your thighs as he pushes your legs to your chest. he chuckles to himself when you gasp in surprise, feeling him deeper inside you. while toji was the whole package, both girth and length size, shiu was a bit longer with a fat tip that kept nudging at your walls in a dizzying manner.

“fuck, she knows how to take dick,” shiu praises you as though you’re not even there, furrowed eyebrows and sweaty forehead making him look even more attractive.

“of course she does,” your boyfriend says, a little pissed. “should see her when i come back after a long mission.”

“needy?” shiu looks over his shoulder with a grin.

“she hops on my dick like a bitch in heat,” toji finally stands up from the couch and makes his way towards the both of you. he kneels down and his hand strokes your tear stained cheeks and brushes the hair sticking to your face.

“spreads those legs for me, lets me eat that pussy til I memorize the shape—you’re too good for me, aren’t you?” you nod eagerly and part your lips. toji’s thumb brushes your bottom lip and when you try to lick at his finger, he simply pushes it down on your tongue and turns to shiu.

“pull out.”

the command brings you out of your hazy state and you’re about to complain. shiu might’ve been teasing you for the past hour, but you were still close. so close.

“toji—“ you try to keep shiu’s dick inside you but your boyfriend gently smacks your wrist and clicks his tongue.

“can’t believe you’re begging for another man’s cock. am I not enough for you?”

“n-no! no you’re so good—“ you let out a small squeak when toji grips your hips and turns you his way. his mouth lands directly on top of your clit and your back arches off of the couch as you gasp for air.

“fuck,” shiu whispers under his breath, hand stroking his dick slow at the sight. toji was a messy eater for sure, drool and arousal started to pool beneath you the louder you got, and your hands knew better than to grip his hair. you held onto his face while his tongue flicked your clit a couple of times before pressing hard on it. he sucked, licked and kissed until your body was twitching with every touch.

he doesn’t break eye contact, staring into your soul the whole time he is sucking on your clit, teasing your folds with his middle and ring fingers—and when he pushes into your tight hole—your entire body stiffens up.

“oh my god—!” toji doesn’t show mercy as he fingerfucks you, a hand pressing down on your stomach whilst he pistons his fingers in and out of you at an inhumane pace. you spread your legs wider, hands gripping the pillow and your body arching off of the couch when his thumb brushes against your sensitive clit.

“yeah baby, yeah,” toji’s grin is wide as he praises you. “fucking give it to me, make a mess on my fingers dirty girl—show him how dirty you can be for me.” you whimper at the mention of shiu. you forgot he’s there and you try your best not to stare at him—but the wet sound of his cock gliding against his hand is hard to ignore and your eyes land on him.

shiu looks like a mess. wet strands stuck to his sweaty forehead and his flushed cheeks making your eyes roll to the back of your head. you can’t take this. two hot men in one room with you—one ruining your pussy whilst the other ruins his cock to the image of you getting your pussy destroyed.

“make a mess baby, give it to me—“ you don’t realize you’re squirting all over toji until he starts rubbing your clit fast, a chuckle escaping his lips.

“yeaaaah, fuck yeah!”

“toji!” you squeal and try to close your legs when he slaps your cunt, a sob rips from the back of your throat when he does it again and you have to hold onto his shoulders.

“oh my god, oh my god-“ you’re certain you’re gonna pass out. and very soon.

shiu pushes toji out of the way and you’re surprised that your boyfriend didn’t grab his gun and shot the man at the gesture—but instead he watches as the usually composed man gets lost between your legs, tongue lapping at your juices and nose brushing against your overstimulated clit.

“please—“ you sob and your hands land on shiu’s head, trying to push him away.

“can’t give me one, princess? just one?” at this point there are tears streaming down your face, but shiu reaches towards you and wipes your cheeks with his thumb.

“I know you can do it,” he says before landing a kiss to your stomach. “for me.”

“oi,”

He drags his tongue down to your pussy and you shudder. “for toji.”

“don’t push it.”

shiu doesnt even acknowledge your boyfriend as he lays his tongue flat against your clit. your thighs shake, but you know you can take it—you will cum fast, but you can take it.

and it doesn’t take you long before your suffocating shiu between your thighs, the man having to keep your legs open as his lips wrap around your clit and he laughs at you writhing under his touch.

“good girl,” he starts to climb on top of you, his teeth playfully biting your nipple and you gasp in surprise. “you did so well.”

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[froggibus]

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.  

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react. 

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first. 

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth. 

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can. 

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is. 

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops. 

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away. 

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into. 

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding. 

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him. 

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize. 

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head. 

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts. 

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination. 

“You can relax.” Dick hums. 

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on. 

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.” 

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place. 

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?” 

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it. 

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more. 

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!” 

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh. 

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are. 

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here? 

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before. 

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly. 

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow. 

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly. 

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs. 

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need. 

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand. 

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.” 

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing. 

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh. 

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking. 

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts. 

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you. 

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i get ^^

[rumisgf]

BAKUGOU BOYFRIEND HCS

summary: i’m getting katsuki brainrot again so here’s some boyfriend headcanons for the soul.

warnings: black!reader ofc, college!au, cursing, mentions of injury, suggestive if you squint, crack, feminine terms used

✧ first off, it was not easy to get to the point of dating. just because he’s so hyper focused on being a hero he definitely had to learn how to let somebody in his life, so y’all probably were in that talking stage for a hot minute before he finally asked you to be his 😭

✧ as a boyfriend though, bakugou’s very protective of you

✧ he always walk on the side closest to the street on the sidewalk, usually has a hand on the small of your back or on your hip, and insists he holds your hand while you cross the street

✧ never walk behind him. ever.

✧ it ends in him scolding you while grabbing you and shoving you in front or next to him

✧ he’s practically your bodyguard at this point, no one tries to approach you with bad intent when he’s with you

✧ when he’s not with you though, he still puts in an effort to make sure you’re good. he’s definitely a ‘call me when you get there’ and ‘call me when you get home’ type of boyfriend

✧ it’s known bakugou is very self disciplined. he goes to bed at 8:30, probably has a very good diet, and is keen on his hygiene. so naturally, he makes sure you do the same

✧ he makes sure you’re drinking enough water and if you’re hungry he’d much rather cook for you than order you something (also because cooking is his love language)

✧ and if your sleep schedule is messed up bakugou finds out….oh boy

✧ he’ll literally lift you up and carry you to bed when it gets around his own bedtime

“katsuki put me the fuck down!”

“it’s bed time, stop being a brat.”

✧ all in all, he actually enjoys taking care of you no matter how much he calls you a brat

✧ which, him calling you a brat is ironic, because bakugou acts like a bad ass little kid

✧ he’ll randomly cuss somebody out if they talk too much, he hates ties, he’ll do stupid dares denki tells him to do just to prove he can do it, and his every day mission is to get on your nerves

✧ he loves play fighting but he will not go easy on you

✧ your friends cannot take y’all in public without y’all randomly trying to tussle

✧ and of course he’s katsuki bakugou, so he likes to argue

✧ usually it doesn’t get too serious, it’s always over something so dumb he really just likes getting you mad because he thinks it’s cute

✧ but something bakugou also would never admit is he likes when you’re touchy or needy

✧ it makes him feel wanted

✧ he also constantly craves your comfort

✧ he does little things like coming straight to your dorm after a workout and laying directly on top of you while you’re laying down despite how sweaty he is

✧ leaning his head on your shoulder while you’re doing something so you can play with his hair

✧ acting grumpy when he wants your attention so you can eventually give in to him and give him forehead kisses

✧ he’s a big baby (but you love it)

✧ bakugou loves taking candid pictures of you. not only because he thinks you look so pretty but he heavily enjoys hearing you whine after you snap up and see his phone camera pointing at you

✧ despite what was stated earlier, he does like taking you to restaurants

✧ it’s an excuse for you to get all dressed up and for him to admire you

✧ as you can tell, he likes to give you princess treatment even though if anybody brings it up he’ll deny it profusely as his palms threaten to spark up explosions

✧ kirishima tried to tease him about it, that man barely made it out alive.

✧ bakugou pays for your nails, your lashes, your hair– anything you wanna get done he instantly is sending you money

✧ he goes all out of birthdays, brings you snacks for your classes, opens every door and pulls out every chair for you,

✧ and one time when all of bakusquad went out to eat, mina caught him cutting your food for you

“here give me that, ‘not even doin’ it right.”

“dude i got i-”

“hush, lemme see!”

“i said-”

✧ and he just started cutting your steak.

✧ speaking of, he’s very stubborn and has a particular way of doing things

✧ one time he tied your shoes for you because ‘you’re doing it the wrong way’

✧ mitsuki taught him the bunny ear method and he sticks to it to this day

✧ and he has his own weird way of loving you

✧ ‘stop being stupid’ always translates to ‘please be careful, i care about you’

✧ don’t get him wrong though, he loves bullying for you fun

✧ you cannot eat in peace around this man.

✧ ‘woah there little lady, you sure know how to put it away!’

✧ ‘damn, is it good???’

✧ you have to fight urges to smack him in the face on a daily basis

“…….eat! eat! ea-”

“SHUT THE FUCK-”

✧ whenever you accidentally scratch or cut yourself on something he scolds the hell out of you but is also the first one running to you

✧ it’s always him mumbling about how you need to be more careful while putting a bandage on your wound and gently kissing it after

✧ he drives you everywhere. you’ll never need an uber again dating this man

✧ you’re one of the only people who can genuinely make him laugh

✧ his friends got so shocked at first when you made a joke and he was crying laughing

✧ bakugou isn’t very fond of using social media, but when he does it’s mostly for you

✧ he’s one of the first to put you new posts on his story, and he always leave about three hearts under your comments

✧ maybe even a “so beautiful” or “my pretty girl” if he’s feeling giddy that day

✧ lastly, bakugou does not play about you.

✧ he will crash out about you any day he needs to and your wellbeing is his first priority

✧ he’s definitely gotten into fights over you and no matter how many times you tell him to chill, he doesn’t tolerate anybody who tries to disrespect you

✧ and anytime anybody even tries to hurt you, he nearly commits first degree murder

✧ he won’t say it out loud to other people but you’re truly his baby, and he cherishes you so much

✧ he never viewed himself as boyfriend material but for you, he really does try his hardest and it’s very apparent

@ rumisgf

[theealbatross]

isn't it delicate? (s.s.)

Plot: Sebastian is your best friend ... right?

or, Sebastian is being bullied (false), you can't possibly be falling in love with him (false), and he might have already, possibly, maybe, fallen in love with you too (true).

Tags: fluff on crack, jealousy, seb is a shit senior/lowkey bully (not rlly), imelda and ominis deserves reparations for their service to wizardkind, yandere!seb if u squint, kinda ooc but who cares, mentions of death and murder (rip anne, rot in hell solomon)

[A/N: This is me trying to beat writer's block if you even care. The scene in his dorm was so fucking difficult to write it was beating my ass. Anyways stream Delicate by T.Swizzle. Also, none of the photos are mine don;t sue me im poor]

Autumn was your favorite season – especially since it makes your short walks to Hogsmeade especially scenic.

After accepting defeat and admitting that you were hopeless at Herbology, you have made it a point to visit the Magic Neep every weekend to buy whatever you haven’t gathered yourself. The walk was a good excuse to get out from the walls of Hogwarts every now and then.

It’s surprising how loose the villagers are with their gossip when they’re just talking to a teenager. Plus, you do enjoy spending the afternoon with Mr. Timothy as he helps you improve your rubbish-handling skills with plants.

A noise from above alerts you that Imelda had the rookies on her team running drills just outside the quidditch field. The new players fight through the wind resistance as they make sharp turns and loops while they scream at each other in encouragement.

However, you can’t help but notice when one of them pointed at you while the other flew towards the stadium in a haste as if his broom had been on fire.  

Shrugging it off, you continued your pace, waving at familiar faces as you passed. You were just about to approach a couple of 2nd years you had been tutoring in Charms when there was a sharp breeze from above followed by a familiar silhouette dropping in front of you.

“Fun walk, pet?” he smirked when you jumped in surprise, roping you into a hug. From behind you, he casually shoo-ed off the 2nd years with a subtle flick of his head.

“Ew, Sebastian, no! You’re sweaty!”

Rather than acting like a gentleman, he drew you in close, leaning down to rub his cheeks against your neck despite your shrieks of protest as he lifted your feet off the ground.

Finally, you managed to push his stubborn form away, wiping away the skin that was now smeared in his sweat but he still managed to get ahold of your hand, pulling you close so you had to look up at him. Bastard.

Suddenly, it clicks, “Did you seriously have your rookies keep an eye on me?”

“It’s good practice,” He shrugged shamelessly, looking up at them in scrutiny, “Trains them to have sharp eyes, remain vigilant of their surroundings, and watch out for pretty witches on the ground that might be distracting while they’re in the skies.”

You slapped his chest, trying to ignore the burn on your face from his casually tossed compliments—and how solid he felt beneath his gear. “You and your brilliant ideas, Sallow.”

With the backbreaking, secret work (“You’ll see it soon enough, pet”) he does in Feldcroft to pass time along with the training he receives from Imelda along with a sprinkle of his glorious genetics, it was no wonder his social standing recovered as quickly as it did even when whispers of forbidden magic still followed him wherever he goes.

Not that he cared, you noticed. As he was clearly more than satisfied in spending his time with the same circle of friends despite the many girls that were bidding their time to steal him.

“Soooo, is there a real reason you had them monitoring me or is it just your unique form of torture?”

“Oh right,” you didn’t notice before but he had been carrying one of his satchels, digging into it to pull a grey knitted scarf that had an owl at the end of it. Before you could say anything, he was already wrapping it around your neck, even pulling up your hair for a second and tutting under his breath how ‘you never dress warm enough’. “It’s your scarf for autumn.”

It was tradition – something that started the first time you visited Feldcroft and he had let you borrow a spare scarf from his closet because you had lost yours in your haste to get to him. It was silly but that was the first time (aside from the troll) the two of you got into a real battle with only each other to watch the other’s back.

The scarf had become a source of comfort, especially on the nights that you had to do it on your own.

However, to Sebastian’s horror, you had worn the piece of cloth ragged. Refusing to let go of it because it was the first gift he had given to you. From then on, a compromise was established, he would be in charge of buying (and confiscating) your scarfs and you would pay him for it.

Only one of you held your end of the deal.

“And wear this,” he pushed your head on the hole of a sweater, helping you find the arms despite your grumblings about his fussing. “It’s getting colder now and you never wear your coat. And since we're always together, If you get sick that means I get sick. So please,” he glares at your petulant pout.  “Spare us both.”

“I’m sorry, mom,” you rolled your eyes. He pinched your cheeks painfully. “Hey!”

“No smart talk,” he chastises, chuckling. “And you better be back in the Great Hall once I’m finished here.”

You wave him off as you walk away. “Why? I like having you chase me around.”

“Don’t even think about it!” He screams, hands on his hips.

You laugh, poking your tongue out at him.

“Thanks for the scarf!”

“Do you have drills this weekend, ‘melda?”

Imelda stopped chewing her food to look at you with a raised, suspicious, brow. “No, why?”

You clapped your hands cheerfully, “I wanted to take Sebastian out on a day trip to Pitt-Upon-Ford before you guys start training for the upcoming game. One of the villagers told me a wild Dugbog was getting too aggressive and started killing their chickens.”

She nodded understandingly.

“Not the most romantic date but sure, just bring him back to the Quidditch Pitch in one piece by Monday.”

The nonchalant accusation plucked just the right string as your face morphed into a mixture of surprise, discomfort, and a hint of embarrassment. “It’s not a date! And how would you know what’s romantic?”

Imelda chuckled, raising her hands in mock surrender, “Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“Melda!” you shrieked, face heating up even more when you realized you had caught the attention of other students at the nearby tables. “I’m just worried about him.”

That made the Quidditch Captain frown, what is there to worry about? Is Sebastian having a tough time again? Imelda may be a bit dense regarding other people’s emotions but even she could tell losing his uncle and his twin sister in such quick succession had quite a toll on her friend.

It would take quite a toll on anyone.

But Imelda was sure he had been managing well, especially with his dearest witch by his side who, if the rumor mills were to be believed, basically spent all summer nursing him back to health. Not that she could blame her, from what Ominis told Imelda, Sebastian had damn near been catatonic and wouldn’t give anyone the time of the day unless it was you.

“Is he alright?”

You were quick to wave off her worries with a hand and a nervous smile, “No, he’s fine! Doing better than fine. It’s just … I’m worried he might be getting … bullied.”

In the confusion between laughing or swallowing or insisting that even a full-grown troll wouldn’t be able to bully Sebastian Sallow, Imelda instead choked on the pumpkin juice she was nursing.

“Imelda!”

She stops your fussing with a raised hand before speaking through the pain. “What *cough* What ever gave you such a ludicrous idea?”

You fiddle with your hands, clearly having kept this ceaseless worry for quite a bit of time. “Because Sebastian – ever since – he’s not particularly … very nice. Plus, there are all these ridiculous rumors of him being a dark wizard,” you roll your eyes but Imelda can still see the poorly concealed anxiety in them. “I’m scared he’s being ostracized. And I can’t be with him forever, you know.”

“Did you tell him that? Because I have a baaaad feeling the two of you aren’t on the same page.” Imelda is fairly certain Sebastian has already named their future children and dogs if you asked her. And if there was anyone that could have some sort of sway on that stubborn mule it would probably be you.

You shook your head, “He’s a man. He’ll just tell me not to worry about it.”

“Not worry about what?”

“Godric’s bloody heart! Sebastian, you scared me!”

“She thinks you’re being bullied.”

Without missing a beat Sebastian just bashfully smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before straddling the bench to sit facing you amidst Imelda’s gagging. “Aw, you’re sweet, pet.”

Imelda watched in horror and disbelief as Sebastian just ignored her and cooed at you, teasingly trying to press kisses at your cheeks while you pushed away his face.

“Are you not even gonna deny that?”

“Should I?” Sebastian continued to stare as you stood up quickly, a flimsy excuse of getting some pastries on the other side of the table while huffing at Sebastian about misbehaving in public and creating misunderstandings. “I quite like it when I’m the only thing in her mind.”

“You’re seriously sick in the head, you know that?” she crosses her arms, studying him as his eyes stayed stuck while you got roped into a conversation with other students you were too polite to end quickly.

Sebastian just grinned, popping a grape into his mouth. “Of course, I know that.”

Suddenly, his gaze shifted to the side, spotting a sixth-year slyly stealing glances and eavesdropping on their conversation. He slammed his hands on the table, startling them. “Can I help you?”

“N-No – I’m sorry, Sebastian!”

Imelda shook her head, as the nosy students dispersed, prematurely ending their dinners. “Bullied, my arse.”

“Oh, if we have drills this weekend I won’t go, we’re going on a date.”

“I know that, Sallow.”

“Cheers, Reyes,” Sebastian tapped his fingers on the table twice and winked at his captain goodbye. Imelda watched as her prized beater decided he was done sharing you for the night. In a speed befitting a Seeker, he walked in your direction to grab you and your plate full of sweets towards the exit as you haphazardly screamed a goodbye to the witch.

Imelda stares at her cup before sighing, “Merlin, help her.”

Last night was the first time you had a dream about him.

Not a nightmare of losing him or a terrible recollection of the crimes you have buried together in the past – but a dream. A sweet, fuzzy dream that had you staring at your ceiling in a confusing blend of horror and butterflies as fuzzy memories of the touch of his lips on yours burned your cheeks.

You slap a pillow over your face.

“No, no, no.”

It would have been easier if it had been a nightmare. With one letter you and Sebastian would already be cocooned up the Room of Requirement and you would find sleep again under his careful watch.

But who do you call for this? When the one person you tell everything to is the one who can’t know.

This can’t be happening. You can’t do this to him.

You’ve been faintly aware of an attraction budding inside of you for your dear friend but you thought it was normal. Who wouldn’t be attracted to Sebastian?

He was tall, tanned, broad, and had that irresistible, mischievous grin that spells trouble—but somehow, it works. Because handsome features aside, he was protective, thoughtful, and was someone you could talk to for the rest of your days and never get bored with.

He’s your best friend.

And …

And you dreamt of kissing him.

You scream into your pillow.

Along with the life-shattering realization in the dark of the night is another horrible one in the morning: you’re probably not the only one who dreamt of kissing him.

You stare in horror at the small crowd of giggling girls that trailed after him, roping him into a conversation even when he politely excused himself once he saw you.

When has this happened?

The year you met, the two of you had been bombarded with problems bigger than each other that silly things like romance and crushes and jealousy were shoved and locked to the back of your minds. The year after that was spent recovering -- you had basically spent all of your days huddled together in whatever corner you both could find, too on guard to even think of socializing properly with other students.

Now, as you stand next to him, on the way to your next class, you finally see what you had been so obtusely blind to.

In a moment of grim clarity, you twigged that your good friend, one you had barely accepted as the boy that holds your adoration, was a handsome, talented gentleman in the race to become the most successful wizard to graduate in your year.

Of course, he would be bloody popular.

“Hey.”

You were so used to being at the center of all his attention (as depressing the context was) that you didn’t even comprehend otherwise – missed the flutter of their lashes, their shy giggles as he passed, or the coquettish whispers that followed him wherever he goes despite his aloof demeanor.

A couple of 5th-year Ravenclaws greet Sebastian sweetly as you pass by. You flinch at the tilt in their voice.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian notices the grimace in your face as you turn a corner, hands quickly soothing the back of your spine.

Well, you definitely see it now.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Avoiding him was definitely the wrong move – heedless, moronic, selfish –

But in your panic, it was the only move you had.

So, yes, it is horrendously short-term and stupid and back floating in the middle of the Black Lake in the morning of your weekend even more so.

Still, you and Sebastian had agreed months before the start of the term to pick mostly the same subjects as your last year, an idea that is now gloriously clashing with your ‘avoiding-him’ plans. Hence, you had no choice but to find solace in the big lake, submerging your ears under the water to tune out the noise of the rest of the world as you tried to think out of this predicament you have checkmated yourself in.

You are a brilliant student, a great strategist, and a powerful witch; you should be able to fix this.

He is suspicious, you know him well enough to know he’s slowly catching on to the fact that you would rather fight a graphorn wandless than be anywhere near him. He won’t be able to let it go. He’ll dig his claws in your brain and rip the reasons out of your mouth himself – which is something he definitely can’t find out.

You … like Sebastian – might even love him.

It’s the first time you admitted it to yourself, dunking yourself in the frigid waters to scream underwater (scaring the poor squid) before floating on your back again when you’ve sufficiently calmed down. You must positively look like an idiot but you have bigger fishes to fry than looking sane.

“I love Sebastian,” you whispered, trying and failing to get used to the idea, even if it was just on your tongue.

Should you tell him? That would be … difficult.

Everything is too delicate.

Your friendship was barely dangling on a thread a few months ago. If it wasn’t for your insistence to spend your summer together mending whatever was left of him and your bond outside the horrors in Feldcroft and in the small estate Professor Fig had left for you, you might’ve lost him altogether.

He tries hard to move on from it, to atone quietly, become a better man but you know he’s still struggling. On the worst nights you’ll find him staring at the empty walls of the Undercroft curled in on himself until you unwrap him out of his worst nightmares and into your arms.

Your feelings seemed infinitesimal compared to the demons he is fighting inside his head.

Does he even feel the same? Would he?

If you tell him, would you just become another one of his problems?

You slapped a hand on the water, trying to find the best outlet to let out your frustrations so you could piece together some form of answer or plan, cursing when a drop of water conveniently landed on your eye.

Realistically, he has his pick of the litter right now. Pretty girls tripping over themselves to be noticed by him. Beautiful, untraumatized, clean slates who would definitely be a sweeter companion than you.

The thought of seeing him with another makes your hands tremble – a strange combination of unjust anger, boiling jealousy, and a hint of heavy sadness flowing in your veins.

It feels strange to have your roles flipped. When you had arrived you were the new kid, a limelight at your every move and it was Sebastian who was always chasing after you, beating anyone else to hog your attention. As sick as it is to admit, you preferred it that way.

Being the jealous one wasn’t the kind of tune you were used to dancing in.

If you weren’t so caught up with saving the world maybe you would’ve been able to chain him to you.

Maybe it is too late now.

It feels unfair to add your confusion and emotions as yet another burden for Sebastian, who already carries so much. He’s happy now, finally finding some peace and stability. You refuse to be the one to break it all down.

You won't be another sin he'll have to take responsibility for, another person he stands to lose.

It's fine. This is fine.

“Accio.”

Your view went from the blue sky to a haze as you got rudely plucked out of the water and back into shore, face-to-face with the boy who had haunted your every waking (and sleeping) moment.

If you hadn’t been so dizzied you would’ve been offended.

“S-Sebastian?”

He does not look pleased. Fuck, fuck, fu –

“How many times must I tell you I don’t like chasing you around.” He quips but quickly removes his robes to wrap them around you. It was only when your feet were back on the ground did you realize all the eyes on you and the scene he had created.

Sebastian glared at the group of boys gawking and they scattered like ants. What a tyrannical senior he had turned out to be. You can’t believe you were worried about him getting harassed a few weeks ago. “We’re going back to the dorm to get you changed.”

Wait – what – “’s going on?”

One second you were having a heartbreaking crisis in the lake and in a blink, you were in his arms getting dragged barefooted back up the stairs.

He suddenly stopped waking, your face smashing into his back. You took quick steps backward when he gave you the most offended look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Oh no, you’ve messed up somehow. “Did you have somewhere more important to be than on one of my games?”

Ohhhh shit.

“N-No! I – I didn’t forget I swear it just … slipped my mind for a moment –”

And you didn’t! You even prepared your ensemble for today last night; it was hanging on your closet before you left your room. However, as you focused on not being seen by Sebastian the day had escaped you.

Your excuses seemed to just infuriate him even further because he just firmly grabbed your hand again and tugged you into the nearest floo. When you have teleported to the familiar walls of your Common Room you stopped on your tracks at the risk of lighting his fuse.

“I’m sorry. I promise I didn’t forget. I have my outfit ready in my –”

He stared, looking over your (no doubt) pitiful dripping form before sighing, pulling you so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s go to my room. We need to talk.”

It shouldn’t make you feel like a sulking child, but the way you are trailing from beside him with your head down had you fitting just the part. However, two firm squeezes on your shoulders were Sebastian’s silent way of telling you he wasn’t bringing you to his abode for a fight.

With his door closed and a quick silencing charm (when has he gotten so good at Charms) he was quick to pull out a spare skirt from the bottom of his bunk, unhooking one of his jerseys before handing it to you.

“Is this my skirt?”

A less secure boy would’ve been flustered but he just shrugged, you hate how his confidence just made him more attractive. “You left it when we were studying late here and you borrowed one of my sleeping shorts. Figured I’d just keep it here in case of emergencies.”

Even his reasoning was perfectly endearing and thoughtful. Clearing your throat, you gave him a grateful smile before going behind the dressing screen.

It was a few minutes of reprieve before he started his interrogation.

“Care to explain why I’ve barely seen you today?”

“Oh, I was just bu –”

“Or this entire week at all?”

You silently winced, seriously considering just apparating from behind the flimsy wood separating you. Though you had a feeling he'd just hunt you down again and that would just be awkward.

Because as much as he claims to hate chasing you, he does a perfectly good job at it.

Peeking from behind the wooden cover you flinched when he was already staring.

With a quiet sigh, he unwrapped his scarf from his own neck and threw it on his bed, his hands enclosed around each other as he leaned on his legs.

“I’m all ears, darling.” His frustration was evident, yet he was clearly extending his patience for you—a surprise, given his reputation for having a short fuse.

You finish zipping up your clothes, steeling yourself from behind the wooden screen before finally gathering all the courage you could muster and finally going out of your hiding spot and meeting his eye.

It was silent for a couple of long seconds before he decides to cut the tension by reaching out a reassuring hand which you quickly and gratefully accepted, letting yourself be dragged in between his legs as he stares up at you.

“Did I do something?”

“No!” You quickly reach a hand to his messy, brown, locks to placate him. A small smile gracing your face when he nodded quietly, earnest eyes hanging on to your every word. “It’s just …”

You squeaked when the door suddenly opened.

“Sebastian, Imelda said to get on the fie –”

“Out!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know your girlfriend – the captain said – I’ll let her know! I’m sorry!”

The door slammed with an echo, and Sebastian slumped into your stomach, hands loosely on the back of your knees. Despite the relief at being cut off, you can’t help but share his frustration. However, it didn't escape your notice his failure to correct what you believe is a common assumption among his teammates.

“We should go before it’s Imelda who bursts in next time. I think she won’t be as kind to your door.”

He sighs, nods, and stands up. However, instead of guiding you back to the floo he pulled you closer into him until you had to stand on the tip of your toes. His hooded eyes run through every inch of your face as he cradles it firmly, his work-worn thumb caressing your cheek gently while his other hand pulls you until you have to rely on his solid body for balance.

“Don’t think we’re finished talking about this,” he warns, his grip on your cheeks going tighter for a split second as the intensity of his gaze sharpens and he returns to the sweet, charming boy that stole your heart.

This is exactly what you had feared. Secrets weren’t a concept familiar to the two of you. Now that he had sniffed it out, it is only a matter of time before he gets to the bottom of it.

He gives you a mischievous smile at the unmistakable horror and guilt on your face, then leans in to press a kiss to your hairline. "Stop trying to run away from me while I'm still being nice."

"This is you being nice?" you tease but he only chuckles. "Maybe I should be running faster."

"You can play chase all you want, pet. But your chances of getting away from me are --" He mouths 'zero'.

"Oh? Zero?"

"To none."

The two of you laugh, and all at once, the small argument, the days spent avoiding him, and the guilt you feel about your emotions are lifted from your chest as you reach a bittersweet conclusion.

This was for the best.

This is how it's supposed to be. You shouldn't ask for more, not right now.

As long as he can keep laughing like a boy his age should after being forced to grow up so fast, and you remain each other's safe haven you can always retreat to, and he continues to look at you just ... like ... that ...

And you see it. Clear as day, you almost want to laugh at how silly and blind you had been.

In fast progression, you run through your memories, and it feels like falling through the ice-cold waters of the lake surrounding Hogwarts, like the path to Hogsmeade after an autumn rain -- clear and refreshing.

He hooks a strand of hair behind your ear and you realize that he knows you've finally figured it out.

"Is that a promise?" you ask.

It should be terrifying, it should terrify you – what you realize is his need for control of everything regarding you, his barely hidden obsession you had missed all this time, his unwavering dedication that only now did you see the depth of.

Instead, you beam, heart fluttering and meeting his commitment with a kiss pressed on his thumb.

You’re in love with Sebastian Sallow.

And for the first time since the two of you met, you finally see it – Sebastian Sallow might also be a bit in love with you.

"I promise."

“I know it’s been a while since I’ve been here but has the house gotten bigger?”

Sebastian stops his search on one of the chests in the storage to look back on his friend by the door. He looks up at the ceiling as if just noticing himself. “Oh, yeah, I did work on it over the past summers.”

Ominis frowned, raising his wand in different directions to get a clearer visualization of the new space, “I thought you spent the summer at her place?”

“I spent the first month finishing everything then flew back to hers for the rest. I’ve been working on it since the end of 5th year so there wasn’t much left to be done. It's honestly a good way to practice Charms.”

The Gaunt scion could barely believe the nonchalance in his statement, “And you added a second floor to your house because …?”

“Aha!”

In Sebastian’s hand was a fancy, brown velvet box, the emblem of the nearly fallen Sallow line embossed on the lid. With a quick peek, he confirmed that his mother’s ring was still safely tucked inside.

“Merlin, Sebastian.”

Ominis could almost hear his grin as he patted the dust off his pants before walking back to his frozen friend. “Are you planning to wed her by the time we graduate? Have you even courted her yet?!”

Sebastian just shrugged, looking around the house, a sense of pride filling his chest when he saw how perfect everything had been. Every nook and cranny made with only the thought of you in mind. Even the reading room you had mentioned in passing was thoughtfully plopped close to the backyard where he had hoped to improve your Herbology skills in the future when he manages to drag you into it.

“We don’t have to be married if she doesn’t want to be but we’re definitely getting engaged, I’m not risking it.”

“And you’re sure she’ll say yes?”

Sebastian scoffs and Ominis unfortunately quietly agrees at the stupidity of his question.

Ominis should be scandalized. The quiet, conservative part of him wants to scream about the impropriety of it all. However, with how headstrong you are and how stubborn Sebastian is he knew it would be a waste of his breath to scream about decorum and the formality of proper courting.

“Does she know about your grand plans yet?”

Sebastian slipped the box into the pocket on the inside of his coat. “My darling’s a skittish one but she’s getting there,” he smirks, the memory of the look of dawning on your face in his dorm room making his chest flutter in excitement. “If I make any moves now, I fear she’ll fly away.”

“Well, if a man told me he’s been obsessed with me from the moment we met to the point of building an entire house for a hypothetical future he has built for us without any of my say I’d be bolting for the hills too.”

Sebastian pushed the other boy enough to make him stumble.

“You wouldn’t understand, Omi,” he grins, smug. “We’re kindred spirits,” he releases the word like it had always been written – a fate he, for the first time in his stubborn life, was willingly letting himself get swayed into. “It was always going to end this way.”

Ominis couldn’t help but agree, both because of his confidence for his dear friend and a healthy part of it is of the potential horror he fears Sebastian would unleash on any other man that might risk taking you away from him.

He'd fancy not hiding another murder from the Ministry.

“For all our sake, I hope so too.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yes, pet?”

Sebastian casually flicks into the next page of the book carefully placed on your lap as you sit comfortably astride him. The wrinkle in between his brows a manifestation of his frustration with the Advanced Potions he was studying.

You could feel the stares and hear the whispers. Two of the younger Headboys tried to pretend not to see you improperly sitting in his lap while a group of girls gave you sharp glares as they passed by. You burrow yourself deeper into his lap, not forgetting to stare back with a sweet smile.

“Do you think we should start dating?”

Sebastian freezes, the speed at which his iris moved from the ink on the pages to your eyes was almost too comical but you held back your laugh, not giving him any space to misunderstand your words.

He does nothing but stare for the next 5 seconds before nodding, pushing a hand to rummage in his pocket before placing and opening a pretty brown box with a simple but beautifully carved ring inside it.

“Since we're already graduating, girlfriend seems a bit juvenile,” he clears his throat casually but a shake in his voice betrays his nerves. “Isn't it?”

You forced yourself to close your mouth as you stared at what undoubtedly is the Sallow’s family ring. It was only when he had plucked out the precious jewelry and gently slipped it into your finger that you finally managed to break yourself out of your stupor.

You sniff, now finally looking back at him, “You and your brilliant ideas, Sallow.”

[toxicanonymity]

Some Landlord ! Billy smut would be Perfect, if you have time. Thanks Tox 🥺

murderbait

BILLY LOOMIS x f!READER | 2k words | The Leak WARNINGS: 18+ AU where Billy lives and is acquitted of the murders. He's now your sleazy landlord. Gratuitous slutty descriptions. masturbation in public, detailed PIV fantasy, degradation, praise, banter and bickering, light enemies to lovers dynamic, manhandling, dom Billy vibes, sexual tension, pet names, "protective" Billy. NOTES: Sure, nonnie. I offer this sleaze with love. 🖤🖤

In the middle of the night, you wake up sweaty despite being completely naked and using no covers. Without putting on any clothes, you walk to your kitchen to get a cold cup of water, only to see a stack of filled ice trays next to the sink because you forgot to put them in the freezer. Ugh.

You get a glass of water and stand in front of the fridge with the door open. The air conditioner in your window feels weaker every day. It’s so stuffy in your trailer, you wonder if you’d be better off with the window open. Still naked, you go to the kitchen window and slide it open. No matter how hard you push upward, it won’t click and stay. 

“Piece of shit,” you mutter. But the fresh air does feel good. 

Standing in the window with your arms raised, tits blazing, skin glistening…. something moves in the corner of your eye. There’s a fake security camera mounted on the shed you’re looking at. At least you always assumed it was fake, since the owners are such deadbeats. You give it the middle finger just in case, then use a pitcher to hold the window up. 

You go back to bed for a while longer, then get up and rifle through your unfolded laundry, looking for a swimsuit. You find a bikini that appears to have shrunk, but it has adjustable strings so you put it on anyway. Next door, there’s an extended stay hotel that has a pool. It has a cracked and faded slide, no longer in use, and half the rungs are dangling from the pool ladders. It won’t be the first time you’ve snuck in there. No one seems to care, and no one’s going to be out at this hour anyway. 

The pool water is normally warm by sunset, but in the middle of the night, it’s cooled off enough. A weakly-inflated flamingo pool float sits atop the water, and a couple of pool noodles hug the wall. Half the pool lights are working. There’s no way this would pass an inspection, but sometimes it feels like barely anyone outside the area knows it exists.

You sit on the side of the pool, and as you lower yourself into the water, you look down to see your hard nipples barely contained by the shrunken, unlined triangle top, with some areola showing on one breast. The sight of your own slutty fit turns you on, and you don’t fix it. 

Kicking your legs out in front of you, you imagine Billy joining you. Billy and his dirty wifebeaters and trucker hats and jeans that fit too well. Billy and his slutty fucking selfies that you can’t stop looking at every night. Billy, and that look in his eyes like he could eat you up, if only he were hungry. 

He’d be hungry right now, you bet. You turn to your side and use both feet to grab a pool noodle, letting yourself off the wall as you mount it. Straddling the  pool noodle, you turn toward the wall and rest your forearms on the side and squeeze your thighs together. 

Closing your eyes and resting your head, you fantasize about him. He’s a low-life and a sleaze, and god he makes it hot. The way he moves, it shouldn’t be hot at all, but you’ve been watching him closer ever since he sent those selfies, and when scratches his lower belly, lifting up his tank top, exposing his happy trail, at this point it drives you fucking crazy. Like that’s where you need your forehead. You tilt your hips for more pressure from the foam between your legs. 

There’s not a single thing about him that says he’s a better guy than you thought, but maybe he is. Or more likely, you don’t care. Or, perhaps most likely, you kinda like him bad. 

He’s not the kind of man you’d want in your life, but in your bed? 

It’s so easy to picture his silhouette at the foot of your bed, scratching himself, then lewdly grabbing the massive bulge in his jeans. 

Your hips begin to move on their own, seeking friction with the foam noodle. 

You can see him kneeling onto your mattress, prowling toward you, arms flexing, chains hanging down from his neck, dangling in the air–god if you could feel those hit your skin. You can feel him grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head with one hand, while he unbuttons his jeans with the other. 

You reach down and slide the pool noodle against your front, grinding your hips. 

He’d probably lean in real close, say something cocky like, “you ready for this?”  Ugh, his voice. With his dick in his hand. “Think ya can take it?”  Yes, yes, please. He drops his thick meat heavily against your mound. Yes, please. God, please, you’d be squirming under him, wrists pinned by his hand, lifting your hips desperately.  “Sure ya can handle this big cock?”

Fuck. It’s so clear, you can practically smell him. Your whole cunt throbs and you’re gushing in your bikini bottoms. “Mm,” you quietly hum as you get closer. 

He’d shove himself into you, you’d arch your back and moan. He’d chuckle darkly, then his free hand would come to your jaw, dwarfing your face as he uses just two fingers and a thumb to squeeze your mouth open. The smell of cigarettes intensifies as his face hovers over yours, then he spits in your mouth. And he stays there, bottomed out, and you’ve never felt so full but you need the friction, you need him to move so bad, you need him to fuck you, you beg him to fuck you, really fuck you. “Yeah? Need me to fuck you?” God, yes. 

“Mm,” your face screws up. You're so wet, and your clit twitches as you rub the front of your swimsuit with the foam cylinder you're straddling.

You can practically hear him say, “Poor baby.” He’s got half a smile, amused and in control. “Yeah I'll give it to ya,” he begins to slowly retreat, pauses with his cock half-withdrawn and lowers his pitch. “Who’s your daddy?”

The tension snaps and your lips part as you see stars. 

Squeezing your thighs tight around the pool noodle, you ride it out, cumming to the thought of his girth stretching you with his gold chains dangling over you, hips beginning to move, jeans sitting loosely around his hips. 

You weren’t planning on doing that, but, there you are, coming down off that high in the motel pool, in your shrunken bikini, skin buzzing, so tired and peaceful you could fall asleep. 

And then metal scrapes against concrete, stirring you from your blissed out state. 

A shadow moves.

His deep voice at a low volume, with that edge of condescension: "All done?”

Your stomach drops. You almost don’t want to look up, but you do. It’s his silhouette, manspreading in a worn-out chair, with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other. The shadow of his stupid trucker hat hides his face. You let go of the pool noodle and try to subtly push it away, obviously too late. Frozen, heart racing, you’re standing with your chest above water. 

“What are you doing here?” you demand. 

“Don’t worry, I’m on my way out.” He stands up and stretches, revealing his happy trail. He twists in another stretch and god, his silhouette - his jeans bulging, clearly aroused. “An' so are you, c’mon.” 

“I’m still cooling off,” you protest. 

“I’ll bet.”  He drops his cigarette into his can of beer and carries it with him as he approaches the pool with his face still in the shadow of his hat. Light reflects off his gold chains. 

You make a fake effort to adjust your top and can’t take your eyes off his jeans. He adjusts himself and stands there giving you a moment. 

Then he loses patience and says, “Alright, sugartits. Let’s go.” 

He squats down and grabs you by the arm. 

“Hey,” you protest as he starts to manhandle you toward the shallow stairs. “Alright, alright. Damn”

When you’re out of the pool, he looks you up and down. You feel like covering yourself up, but you defiantly stand with your hands on your hips. 

“Tryin’ to turn tricks out here?” He slowly steps toward you and his eyes are glued to your chest. “Good place to do it….prolly make a few hooker friends too.” 

“How many of’em have you fucked?” you retort. 

He ignores the question and reaches for your chest. 

Without blocking his hand, you look down and part of your nipple is showing again. He “fixes” your suit, tugging it over and thumbing your nipple while he’s at it. It covers your areola but leaves underboob. 

“There ya go.” 

He puts a toothpick in his mouth and motions for you to lead the way. 

As you exit the pool area dripping wet, you mention, “If you’re gonna spy on me, you could bring me a towel next time.” 

“Yeah, okay,” He mumbles with the toothpick at the corner of his mouth. “Just lookin’ out for ya’s all.” 

“I don’t remember asking you to.”

He pulls the tab off his beer can and it replaces the cigarette that had been between his fingers. He throws the can into a bush.

As you reach the trailer park property line, he throws his toothpick into the shrubs and lowers his voice. “Listen sugar, there’s some shady fuckin’ characters over there.” 

You scoff. “Apparently so.” you shoot him a look and can’t help but check him out while you’re at it. A harsh floodlight highlights the freckles on his big, tan shoulders. 

He keeps on, “You tryin’ to get stabbed?” 

“What?”

“Dumb as hell, sneakin’ over there, middle’a the night.” 

Somehow, this makes you feel stupid. Like if he’s calling someone dumb... Damn. 

You walk the rest of the way to your trailer in silence with him following slightly behind you. 

“Lemme guess, ya left it unlocked, too,” he mutters, then opens your door himself. “Fuckin’ murderbait over here,” he grumbles.

He stands with his back to the open door and waits, making your body brush his as you walk in. 

Full body goosebumps. 

He stands there looking at you, and you eye his pants. Slowly, he steps into your personal space, and you back up almost to the nearest wall, but not against it. There, you stop. Letting him close. With his hand on the wall, he effectively traps you, blocking you from going any further into your trailer.

The smell of Newports fills your nostrils. He wets his lips and looks from your eyes to your chest, then  your mouth. 

He brings his nose to your neck and barely grazes you as he takes a long sniff. His nose brushes your cheek, and his lips follow. Just above a whisper, he warns, “Don’t do it again.” 

When you don’t answer, he pulls back and his hand comes to your neck. He’s gentle, not applying any pressure, but the presence of his large, strong hand is enough to feel like a threat. One that makes you more turned on than scared. “Got it?” he asks, looking at your mouth. Can’t be sure if he’s talking about going over there alone or leaving your trailer unlocked, and it doesn’t really matter. His eyes are wild, and it’s like he’s inspecting you, marveling at your face. 

You whisper, “Yes sir,” and await his next move. 

He takes his hand from your neck and cups your cheek to whisper, “Good girl.” 

You could actually melt.

He gives your chest another look and drops his hand, incidentally brushing his wrist against your breast before he pulls up his jeans. He bites the aluminum tab and turns to leave without another word. As he walks away, your eyes are drawn to a glock sticking out of the back of his pants. 

He looks back at you and winks before shutting the door behind himself.  

-----

-----

------

Thank you for reading! I appreciate your interest and engagement with him so much.

Please take care of yourselves ♥️

[casinocarpediem]

▪︎■☆ Новое Mолоко 🐮🥛 ☆■▪︎

(Translation: New Milk)

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ male! subtop! Francis Mosses / male! dombottom! Reader

☆ overstimulation if ya squint a lil, milking, breeding, dumbification, passing out, belly bulge (If your not into this, look away!! 👻👻)

☆ implied Russian speaking Francis (translated from google translate and research for needed accuracy, however, any form of critique or correction definetely is allowed!)

☆ short (I think???)

☆ author has played Not My Neighbor

°○☆nsfw under the cut☆○°

You and Francis had a thing. And, fuck, for a minimum wage worker who barely gets any kind of rest at all, he's fucking good at what he does. He's a big fan of milking. Not his job, no, he could rant about how shitty it can be despite not wanting to get a new one (A/N: so real) but he's a fan of milking. Just the other kind of milking.

The first tim you two had sex, he was pretty sheepish about it, yeah. He didn't know if you prefered topping or bottoming so he settled for a handjob. You did the same as well. Until you both got used to each other and realized that he was pretty flexible. He'd do whatever you'd want to do, whatever you had in store, as long as if it wasn't too much for either of you. He loves fucking but he surely isn't a sex devient. Somewhere in the middle. Pliant to whatever you to had planned. But recently, he may or may not have discovered a new kink. Somethig that made his legs flex and his stamina increase and the gooey, warm, and fuzzy gears in his head grind back to life to keep on going. The last time you two had sex, there was now no condom, and he was pounding you into the bed that you swore Isaack would definetely send a formally written complain, persuasive enough for the both of you to not have such intense, hot, steamy sex for the next few months, (He's a reporter after all, have to respect the man informing the people, and he definetely has a way with words).

Humming, groaning, a little against your neck. You swore it was like a kitten, as if he was purring in a way. You pulled his hair as per usual and with a louder grunt his dark brown eyes roll up just a slight and flutter, closing shut as he fills you to the brim with his warm baby batter. Shaking, sweating, and biting his lip when he just keeps on cumming until theres nothing more to give. Or is there?

What he didn't expect, was when you suddenly whispered in the midst of him balls deep inside you,

"Thats it... good boy, you fuckin slut... Cum in me, keep milkin' yourself f'me"

Ah shit, he swore something inside of him just snapped loose. With the way he shivered violently, and as your hand loosened on his sweaty brown hair he moves again. Oh how odd, after a few rounds, the last one being penetration, he's always so tired, opting to give you a handjob or finger you if you didnt get a taste of your climax but shit. If this wasn't hot then what was?!

When you had basically degraded him to milk his balls dry you didn't mean literally, but fuck. This was so appealing, that your little milk boy had his quirks.

You look down at yourself seeing the bulge appearing on your abdoment everytime he thrusts in and god does it make you feel dizzy. Your hard dick, leaking as well just begging to cum while Francis gasps and shudders a little more, oh he looks so dumb. Trying to do as he's told. To keep milking himself. Milking himself for you. Just for motherfucking you. It keeps fuzzy sparks inside of his brain that has him smiling and drooling against your chest.

"Awe, what an adorable little cow you are... Milking your-...yourself for me... Giving me every ounce of that sweet sweet milk of yours, hmm? You wanna give me your milk Francis? You wanna fucking cum in me again?"

He feels so lightheaded that he smiles dumbly at the idea and nods as if his head is too heavy, full of warm cream. Muttering several words in russian mixed in with english as he nods slowly, trembling as his cock, still hard and moving perfectly against every spot inside of you.

"Please please please К-Куколка please... fuck fuckk- let me cum... inside... inside... cum inside please please milk me- oh... П-Пожалуйста... З-...Золотце... Пожалуйста..."

The pathetic, brown haired man sobs. Pawing at your sides like an injured little puppy. Begging so prettily, who could deny those eyes of his? all teary and tired. Small blobs of salty water dripping down his eyebags which were now disappearing, thanks to yourself for keeping his sleep schedule normal again after years of nap malnutrition.

After a few more moments of Francis groaning so softly against your ear, you feel yourself about to cum too, and when you order it directly, he really does come undone. Panting like a dog in heat while nails dig against his back skin. All the while he buries himself deep inside of you once again and fills you up with a second load of his fluids that it's practically drooling out of your hole. You hiss as well, shutting your eyes with a shudder as your dick spurts out a thick white rope of cum, coating Francis' stomach and your chest. Fuck.

Francis pants, collapsing on you. You gently push him to the side and just watch him catch his breath. Eyes closed, skin warm and sweaty while he's still inside you. All soft. But its not uncomfortable. At least now, you definetely know how you can abuse this new found information with your lovely boyfriend.