#ID: Red Sheet

[peeplet]

yeah…

[clumsypuppy]

updated xin ref

[bitegore]

faggot

[painandalsosuffering]

digital footprint goes crazy

[kon-konk]

Id: Hey, uh... Do you know when we'll be getting Ningen Mukotsu again?

Me: I have no idea, to be perfectly honest.

Id, looking longingly at Minamoto Kiyomaro: When we get him, do me a favor and don't tell him about this.

Me: I'm starting to think you just really like the color purple.

[underlock-and-key]

Do you have a favourite and/or least favourite ID? :3c also what's georgie's deal? she seems mad... or is she just like that?

Oh, hahah, don’t you worry about Georgie! She’s not mad! She just, um.

She always looks like that.

[moechies]

you literally cannot tell me that kaiser doesn't love period sex... hear me out okie!

he's not the biggest fan at first glance. like any other normal being, he thinks it's rather gross and unhygenic -- i mean the period is literally the lining of your uterus being shed, so he's not the biggest fanatic right off the bat.

it's only when he sees you writhing painfully atop of your shared bed, sniffling into the soft sheets with soft groans. he snoops up behind you, pushing your hair back behind your ear before pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek, asking you what's wrong.

he only coos sadly when you tell him it's your period, and it's hurting real bad. he brings a big, warm hand and clasp it over your tummy, asking if there's anything he can do to help. you only shake your head, the least bit frustrated at his ministrations having being worn from the pain all day, and wanting nothing more but to bask in your pain for a bit.

it's only when he's sitting in your guy's living room, waiting on a pack of pads and some sweets he ordered to be delivered to the home, when he comes across a video that claims: having sex on your period makes your cramps hurt less! he quirks a brow and scoffs, in what world would that even make sense? he's quick to scroll on, but can't deny his suspicion on whether the spewing man was right or not. so he opens a searching browser, and upon further research, and scrolls through r/periodsex on reddit, he deemed the man's claim to be strangely correct.

so he titters himself back into the bedroom where you lay, now scrolling on your computer with an abundance of pillows and sheets surrounding each side of your body, and kaiser chuckles at the sight.

"maus.. you've heard that havin' sex on y'r period can rid your cramps?"

you scoff, on par to his reaction but yours expends a little more anger. "that's so stupid, miche." you scowl a bit, face lightening when he reveals a couple chocolate bars and little sweets from his back.

"i dunno, 'id some research 'nd i think it might be true." he whistles, strolling his way over to you and handing you a bar of chocolate, placing the rest onto your bedside table.

"thank you, miche!" you grin, taking a nibble from the sweet, "but, i don't think your little period thing is true. sounds stupid." you're the same as him. no wonder you guys are so perfect for one another.

"hm," kaiser hums, rubbing his chin, "wha'dya say we test it out, maus?"

and that's how he got you here -- arched evilly as his heavy cock head sides back and forth through your aching slit. it spills with tinted slick, coating his pale-pink shaft red.

"micha," you cry out, terribly embarrassed as his slowed actions. you thought he'd be quick to get it over with for your sake, but he seemed to be enjoying this little 'try-out' way too much. "hurry, s--so embarrassed." you cover your face and whine as he taps his cock against your wet cunt, loud, sloppy noises eliciting from the mess. "embarrassed? how come?" kaiser grins, "nothin' t'be embarrassed about, lovie. 's just me."

"i know b--but... don't want y'to think ‘m gross." you whine, handling at the white sheets.

"nothin' you do is gross, maus." kaiser hums. "you understand?" you nod quickly, knowing just how mean he could get if you even bother trying to talk down on his efforts to love you. "hase, i'll put it in now, yeah? tell if it hurts, swear."

"i will! f--fuck me, miche, pleasee," you whine, shaking your ass up against his erection.

"you're shameless, hase." kaiser laughs, wasting no time before he thumbs at the front of his cock, pressing the crown against your weeping slit. you two gasp simultaneously when he fucks only the tip into your cunt -- fuck.

your pussy is so much hotter, and much more tender than it usually is -- and he knows this fact well enough from the amount of times he's made love to this very pussy. you whine when you feel your tummy churn from another cramp, tears building against your lashline. "oh, fuck, hase." kaiser whines, inching himself bit by bit into your sensitive cunt, a gentle thumb coming down to massage at your swollen, pearly clit. "y'alright, maus? need me to stop? or slow?" kaiser asks considerately despite his urge to not listen even if you do tell him to. god, it feels so damn good.

"no! miche, m--more!" you whine,

"haaah," a soft murmur of 'so hot,' is all he can manage as he shuffles himself further and further into your pussy, coming to a halt when he hears a rather pitched yelp.

"hase? y'alright?" you're breathing heavily, paired up with loud breathy moans. he's never seen you in this state with just his cock shoved into you -- without even moving or any other felt on your body. "'s sensitive, yeah? the ladies online said so, too." kaiser hums, thrusting slightly.

"shu--shut up, micha, just fuck me, 'kay? slowly!"

"y'got it, hase, calm down, 'righ? just enjoy it, miche'll make you feel s'good. so fuckin’ pretty hase.”

and god -- when he looks down after pulling out a slight and sees his cock coated in a deep crimson, he groans so unbelievably loud unlike you've ever heard before. the pretty scarlet in contrast to his white skin is throwing him in a loop, unable to help himself as he humps back inside with little remorse. he whimpers and whines each and every time your quivering pussy clenches his cock over and over -- and he's not even sure if you're aware of what you're doing.

"fuck, maus. f--feels good?" he finally cracks, bringing his hand down again to massage at your clit.

"u--uhuh, good.." you mumble, drooling against the sheets with a bit of tongue poking out. fuck, you're cute."

"cum now, baby, c'mon." kaiser leans over, pressing your body further into the sheets with his chest pressed against your bare back. "you can do it." he whispers, watching you unravel and shudder around his cock with a mean pinch to your clit. "m--miche..!" your thighs shiver, crying as you cum meanly on his cock and messing his shaft with a mixture of your creamy nut and rufous blood.

kaiser groans, fucking you gently to ride out your orgasm. his strokes are slow and deep, making you gasp at each initial thrust. "i'll cum inside." not a question, just a statement, a warning if you will.

and he does just that, unraveling just a mere couple seconds after yours and shooting white ropes of thick spent into your poor pussy. he groans and pants all at once, pulling out with a soft plop and pressing a kiss to your asscheek before pulling at it to admire his artwork.

he whistles in awe, watching his load spill out of you and mix with your blood to create a peony pink -- and although feeling a sense of flailing pride having to see his nut spill out of you, he won't chastise his sweet girl for it this time.

"m--miche..."

"yes, baby. let me clean you up." kaiser grunts with a grin, arms wrapping you into his embrace and taking you to the bathroom. "lets shower, yeah? i'll wash y'r hair f'you."

you press a weak hand against his chest, "b--but did you like it? was it g--gross?" you ask nervously, tiredly, unable to meet the man's eyes.

"no, i told you, i'd never find any part of you gross, maus. i loved it." kaiser chuckles, holding no hint of recline in his cerulean eyes. "you sure?"

kaiser scoffs. the one thing about kaiser is that he never lies. he'll tell you straightforward when he oughts, and you know this much. but you can't seem to hide the impending doom of embarrassment that haunts you in the back of your head, even if he affirms you over and over. "like i'd lie, lovie. don't doubt my honesty now. it was fun, ‘nd yer so pretty everywhere." he pinches at your cheek, earning a playful slap to his chest. "how's your tummy? still hurts?"

you shake your head, "no, doesn't hurt anymore, swear." and kaiser only grins, kissing your forehead gently.

"good, lovie. let me warm the water."

[nanaslutt]

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

toji getting his ass absolutely drilled by sukuna

sukuna is shoving his head into the sheets, his fingers halfway inside tojis mouth that’s hanging open, drooling like a slut. his back is arched so deep, angled for sukuna so perfectly so he can fuck right against his prostate

“ugghhh- ngh-“ toji squeezes around sukuna when he cums for the third time, cock bobbing heavily with each thrust as sukuna fucks the cum out of him.

sukuna grips the fat of tojis ass so hard his sharp nails dig into his skin. his eyes roll back into his head as tojis hole tries to milk his cock. “did anything even come out? you’re shooting with every thrust, zenin.” sukuna teases, releasing tojis ass before smacking it roughly.

he’s rewarded with a grunt of pleasure from toji. “i can fuck your-“ tojis words cut off in a long groan when sukuna presses his fat cock to the hilt of his ass and rolls his hips in a circle. “f-fuck your mouth and cum down your throat if you don’t believe me.” his eyes are glossy and his face is flushed beyond beleif, but he still has a cocky, cock drunk smile on his lips

sukuna pulls back almost entirely before slamming back in, making toji borderline scream as he sets a fast and brutal pace so hard toji has to place his hand against the headboard so he doesn’t bump into it.

“bold words, sorcerer killer.” his cock leaks inside him. “but id rather watch you squirt on your own face while i ride your hole.”

in moments, toji is on his back with one of sukunas hands wrapped around his throat, which looks so small in comparison to his hand now. sukuna uses his other hand to push one of his knees back against the bed, folding toji in half.

toji grips sukunas thick wrist with both hands, mouth agape and eyes locked on the demon as he pounds his hole. “f-uuuck, fuck.”

“yeah.” sukuna grunts, his fangs showing with his smile. “just a stupid slut when i have you on my cock. where did that fight go?”

tojis nails break the skin of sukunas arms, making his cock twitch from the pain. “still here.” toji chokes out, his breath scratchy and breathy from how hard sukuna is gripping his throat.

his response makes sukunas smile grow. toji begins rolling his hips back to meet sukunas thrusts as best he can, his mouth falling open when his moans start to quiet.

“going to squirt, sorcerer killer?” toji’s mouth closes and he grits his teeth together hard, tears of pleasure falling from the corner of his eyes. sukuna’s heavy balls throb, and he has to unclench the muscles in his pelvis to try not to cum at the sight.

leaning down over him, he crushes him with his body weight while not relenting in his thrusts. tojis sopping wet cock drips between them, making a mess on their abdomens. sukunas tongue flicks out, and he licks up the tear that fell from his eye.

“i do thoroughly enjoy it when you cry. give me more.” tojis lips part and his whole body tenses on a shout. “A-ah!!”

sukuna watches with pleasure as toji’s cock bursts, and he squirts all over his own chest and face. he’s too fucked out to even care about the mess he’s making, as he fumbles for his leaking cock to stroke himself through his climax.

sukuna beats him to it, slapping his hand out of the way to jerk him off quickly, making toji whine as his head thrashes side to side trying to excape the painful pleasure. “sukuna!!” he yells, legs shaking around his large body so violently it nearly looks painful.

“yes pet, again.”

sukuna gets what he wants when toji cums again, though this time nothing comes out. sukuna fucks him through it all the same, jerking his cock harshly that’s been rubbed raw. the tip is so red, and he’s so wet it’s making the most vulgar noises.

when sukuna slows his thrusts, still hard and throbbing inside his ass, he pulls his now drenched hand off of tojis cock and lifts it to his mouth. toji’s tounge lazily swirls around his fingers, tasting his own cum, but that’s not good enough for sukuna.

releasing his throat, he pinches his cheeks together roughly, forcing him to suck on his fingers properly. his cock gives a twitch inside his tight hole when he presses them down his throat and toji gags in response.

“can you take more? or are you nothing but a broken toy now?”sukuna asks, pretending to be more brutal because he knows how much it turns toji on.

sukuna grunts when toji bites down hard around his fingers before smiling like the brat he is. “f-fuck you, i can’t be broken. you still have to check if i have any cum left in me, or if that was just a fluke. unless, you can take anymore…”

he knows he’s taunting him, but he can’t help but fall right into his trap. the vein in his forhead pulsates, and he smacks tojis face harshly, making the other man smile.

“when i’m done with you, you will have no more fluids left to give me.”

(he’s talking abt tears there ^… not uh…. not anything else….. just had to clear that up…. anyways hope u enjoyed…. freaks…….)

[tpwrtrmnky]

Variety

[ID: Four panel comic with crudely drawn stick people.

Panel 1: A blood orange person is putting a sheet of paper down on a table.

B.O.: "I have assembled a reading list for people interested in learning about chromatic issues. It's got a variety of authors from across the spectrum: Red, yellow, cyan, blue, magenta, nonprimar, shrimp colours, achromatic, even non-electromagetic!"

Panel 2: A turquoise person inspects the list.

Panel 3: They look up while lowering the list again.

Turquoise: "…Green?"

B.O.: "Not a creative color, not necessary."

Panel 4: A view of the two on opposite sides of the table.

Turquoise: "I… Don't think that's true? I've been reading a lot of interesting stuff about viridic populations in the toroidal inwards and-"

B.O.: "Yeah nonprimary issues are covered."

Turquoise: "No like. Primary green."

B.O.: "That's a colonialist construct. Get more enlightened please."

End ID.]

Start - Previous - Next

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. caleb x female reader. fluff, suggestive/smut-ish, tiny bit of angst. not proofread. aftercare with boyfie caleb ^_^

caleb is nothing but sweet to you, in public and in private. but he’s especially considerate after he collapses on the bed, with both your bodies sweaty from the passion you shared. aftercare is mandatory to the colonel—it doesn’t matter when or where you two do it.

“you okay, sweets?” caleb’s voice is a rough rumble, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. you nod wordlessly while trying to calm down after your intense climaxes. his strong arms hold you against his chest with ease, “breathe in ‘n out, mhm, there ya go. atta girl.”

he watches you mimic his pattern of breathing and grins in response. you always blindly followed his instructions—that trust and vulnerability of yours is something he adores and wishes to keep that way. his large hand settles on the back of your head to pat your hair soothingly. you slowly come down from your high and limply rest your head against his hard pecs.

“you did so well, i’m really proud of you,” caleb pinches your cheek like he always does, making you huff and stick your tongue out at him playfully. your boyfriend chuckles before doing the same thing again. he can’t help it; you’re too adorable for your own good.

you shake your head and nuzzle your face into his chest. “mmmh, hurts,” you whine as you try to move your body. your hips are already sore from exertion and they ache whenever you try to move them an inch.

caleb’s eyes darken at your little whine. “hurts? where?” he cups your face immediately to tilt your head, your eyes locking. you’re a bit taken aback by the sudden change in his tone—from laid back to concerned and protective in a split second.

“ah, no, my hips are just a bit sore. nothing out of the ordinary,” you quickly reassure your lover. you know how overprotective caleb gets, and if he had accidentally hurt you in any way, he’ll feel extremely guilty for the rest of the day.

caleb’s frown slowly disappears, but the concern still lingers in his softening eyes. he sighs in relief and a small smile tugs at his lips. “i’m sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you,” he croons with a breathy chuckle following right after.

his large hands, warm and callused from all that he experienced, settle on your bare hips to massage them. you hum in relief and your eyes close to enjoy the warmth spreading through your tired body.

a loud ringtone suddenly cuts through the lingering tension between you two, snapping you out of your daze. caleb faintly clicks his tongue before turning his head towards his nightstand. he grabs his phone with one hand to check the caller’s id.

the brown-haired man beneath you tenses up. you can feel it almost immediately. his other hand stops massaging your hip for a second before it continues, this time more slowly. caleb’s gaze is cold and his jaw is clenched as he tries to figure out what to do.

“not gonna pick up?” you ask curiously as you lift your head from his chest. caleb quickly tosses his phone away after pressing the red decline button. he shakes his head and that charming smile of his quickly returns to his face.

“nu-uh. no one’s more important than you,” caleb grins and boops your nose. it’s an attempt to distract you so you wouldn’t ask any more questions about the possible caller. and it seems to work, considering you laid your head back on his bare chest, snuggling up to his bare body beneath the crumpled sheets.

you breathe in his musk and can’t help but love it. the faint traces of his cologne mixed with the scent of his body—it’s a heady combination. caleb seems to do the same, his nose buried into the strands of your hair, breathing you in. you smell like home and he loves it, lives for it really.

eventually, you decide it’s time to detangle yourself from your lover. as much as you want to keep him inside and beneath of you, you need to clean up and go to the bathroom.

caleb hisses when you try to roll over and change positions which had caused you to instinctively clench around him. he tightens his muscular arms around your waist to keep you squished on top of him, refusing to let you move.

“stay like this for a little while more, yeah? i promise i’ll let you go in a bit,” caleb whispers in your ear before his tongue teasingly licks at your lobe. he smirks against your skin and you can feel it. you know it’s a lie—he will not let you go for the rest of the night. hell, he might even be ready to go another round.

even if he technically has to leave to take care of all kinds of things. things that will keep you safe and out of harm’s way.

anyway, caleb will deal with the consequences of skipping his duty later. for now he’ll settle to cherish this serene moment with his beloved, before reality comes crashing down again.

[elliezlils11utt]

I read you fic about Ellie sneezing before she cums and I thought about Ellie eating reader out and suddenly sneezing and now reader knows Ellie came from eating you out (this is crazy but I love your writing and what to see your take on it)

˖° ✩୭ ✧ ˚.

i giggled reading this request because its just so adorable. i can just imagine ellie lapping up your slick on her knees while your placed at the edge of the bed. the heel of her foot pressing into her cunt as she moans into you. maybe your hands are gripping the bed sheets under you. she would look and sound so pathetic. whimpering and whining as she ate you out. you, too blissed out to even realize it, feel ellie pull away slightly. you hear it before you see it.

“achoo!”

her little sniffles and moans after sound even cuter. when you look down there your silly girl is, pushing her glasses further up her nose with one hand, and with the other shes slowly soothing her aching clit through her pac-man boxers. her eyes squeezed so tightly her face is all squished up

“awe baby, you feel good?” you ask all teasingly.

you’d giggle when her tattooed arm came up to wipe (smear) away the snot from under her nose. with one last push of her glasses she’d look up at you all teary eyed with a sheepish lopsided smile, her cheeks all red and hot.

“mhm, y’ taste so sweet.” ellie would mumble before sliding a finger into your leaking hole again.

a/n: i said id get all my requests out by valentines day… im a month late! but im getting to them i swear!!

[ozzgin]

Yandere!Shapeshifter x Reader

Featuring a clueless Reader and the grotesque "dog" she found in a cursed forest, yet this time they're joined by a strange man. Where did he come from, and why does the dog run away whenever he comes by? Content: female reader, dark comedy, monster romance, mildly NSFW [Part 1] | [More Monsters]

You couldn't help but stare a little at the stranger who so persistently knocked on your door. His eyes had a peculiar color - one similar to the little dog who followed you home from your hiking trip. You bit your tongue from saying such nonsense, worrying it might be taken as an insult. He extended his long, bony fingers and lowered a wallet in your open palms. "You must've dropped this somewhere", he remarked with feigned worry. "I used the address on your ID card."

Whatever initial suspicion weighed on your shoulders had instantly dispersed into thin air. You thanked the man profusely, and invited him in for a drink. "Careful with my dog, he's-" you begun warning, but the quadruped creature was nowhere to be seen. Mysterious. You led the benevolent soul into your living room with a smile.

One thing led to another, and the polite meetings for coffee turned into steamy nights in the retreat of your bedroom. Around the same time you stopped having your bizarre wet dreams involving some deformed monstrosity ramming into you. Perhaps a loving partner was all you needed. To your great shock - and delight - the stranger never abandoned you the morning after, unlike all the previous flirts. This is the one, you told yourself. For once, you had company. You had consistency.

Unfortunately, your friends don't agree with you. Your dreamy retellings are met with grimaces and horrified shivers. "He has such an unique appearance", you'll argue. "It's uncanny valley", your friends will counter, embracing themselves in a fearful, shielding manner. They claim he must be yet another curse brought by the damned devil of a hound you keep as a pet.

Every discussion regarding your beloved will turn into a back and forth. "The voice is inhuman. A broken record, as if he's copying the rest of us, with jarring interruptions and words randomly patched together!" You wave your hand in dismissal. "He's just a little shy", you say with a faint blush. You've always had a soft spot for introverts. "He's insane! Last time someone complimented your outfit, he begun chanting at the dinner table!" You puff out a chuckle. "He must be religious, or something", you defend him ardently. No one dares to mention the flickering lights, or the fact that the targeted friend never left the confines of their room after that encounter.

You will admit one thing: your dog seems to avoid this man like the plague. You've never seen the two of them together in a room. Could your friends be right? They do say dogs can sniff out bad people. You shake your head. It can't be. You get out of bed, rub your eyes, and check the time: 2am. The space next to you is empty, sheets ruffled aside. Out of curiosity, you head outside the room and follow the faint light in the kitchen. The stranger stands before the fridge, face smudged red and fingers stained and glossy. He's holding what seems to be a half-chewed heart, probably taken out of the raw organs bag you keep for your dog. "Heh. I see you like late snacking, too", you joke, dragging out a chair. "Pass me the cheese, will ya? But...maybe wash your hands first."

This isn't right. Sure, he's fucking you better than anyone else ever did, and you find his mysterious aura endearing. Yet you can't help the guilt eating at your innards, knowing that your dog cannot coexist with this man. Something has to be done, so you call out your partner and pat the sofa you're sitting on. "We must talk", you tell him. "What might be troubling you", he inquires quietly, frozen in the doorframe. "I'm afraid my pet comes before anything else", you confess. "And he seems to be scared of you...I'm not sure our current situation is sustainable." Ah. That's what it was. The man lets out a whistled laugh, as if remembering something.

His bones begin to break in wet, fluid succession, as coarse fur takes over his skin. He lowers himself to his fours, snout wide open in a sharp, toothy grin. "You mean this dog, yes?"

[honeybunnyale]

Recognized l B.B.

w.c.: 3k

t.w.: This 'series' covers potentially triggering topics, will become much darker, Smut (pinv and oral f receiving), Winter Soldier Bucky, hints of stalker/obsessive Bucky, implied Red Room/Hydra reader, descriptions of violence and injuries, takes place during Captain America: TWC, inspired by WinterWidow from the comics :)

A/n: Please read all warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only! Also, this is my first time writing for Bucky Barnes, ples be kind to me.

Summary: The Winter Soldier always pulls you back into him, one way or another.

St. Petersburg, Russia

January 2012 

The walls vibrated from the force. The door undulated in fist sized divots. You can hear him, growling like a beast, his sounds almost yells of frustration as he continues to try to knock the metal door off its hinges. 

His mission was to take you back. He was taken out of cryo because of you. 

The companion you knew was gone now. Completely blanked out by the will of his handlers. 

They didn't think you were capable of escaping. Some part of you didn't either. But your treatment and the treatment of the girls- it had made you desperate for relief. 

Your body shakes and your eyes blur in uncontrollable tears. You grit your teeth as you prepare yourself to use your uncovered fist to break the window and make your escape. You give an anguished cry as it makes an impact with the glass, shattering it. 

…

Suzdal, Russia

May 2012

The knock at the door was soft. You had been sitting in the bed of the dingy hostel all day, only going out with the spare change you had left, too afraid to wander farther than you have already. Your mind had been muddled from the long sleep. Sometimes you could feel the cold rise up your spine, curling around your neck and pressing on your throat. 

A cold, hard, metal, hand would choke you in your dreams, you’d wake up in a sweat, pulling the sheets over your body as if the fabric would protect you. 

The knock at the door was soft. You felt taunted. Your hand moves to your backpack slowly, unzipping it quietly and smoothly.  

Your steps are firm and solid. Heel to toe. You had counted how much it took to get to the door from the bed earlier. 10 steps. 

You took 10 steps as you raised your pistol and inched closer to the doorframe lined with hinges. Measured, precise, predictable and controlled. 

The next few moments happen in seconds. You don’t feel like yourself. Surprisingly, less so than a minute before. Your body moves quickly, your fingers dig into the shoulder of the other as you pull open the door. 

You think you feel something gather underneath your fingernails, cotton fabric and skin. You think you smell blood. They fall to the floor heavily, legs kicking out as you close the door. You kneel and place the brunt of the barrel against their cheek, feeling their lips press against their teeth. 

Your finger presses against the trigger slightly, ready to fire, but her hand holds onto your wrist, not the one holding the pistol bruisingly to the side of her head, but the one holding her shoulder in place. 

You’ve never met anyone with hair as vibrant red as hers. 

You stare at each other, her gaze trembling as she looks into yours, as if determined to stare you down into clarity. 

You both exhale in relief. Your pistol falls beside her head and for a moment you see her flinch at the thud. For a moment you see a hole in her head. Thankfully, a reddening indent on her skin from the barrel was in its place. 

She closes her eyes tightly before breaking into a smile. 

“Fuck you.”

…

Washington, D.C., U.S.

March 4th, 2014

Natasha had always been vague. A pessimist outwardly, an optimist at heart. It had been buried deep, certainly not by her own choice. 

She had contacted you, only sending coordinates. Your refusal to accompany her as an agent in S.H.I.E.L.D. had brought some distance, although it was mostly your fault. You wanted time to process, alone. She was stubborn. 

It turned you from the idea even further. 

And now you sit inside an apartment, America’s golden boy staring daggers into the back of your skull as his friend, Sam Wilson, begrudgingly makes you a cup of coffee. 

You sip as you debate whether you should engage in their mission. You were given some information, although ‘Steve’ had shushed Natasha quickly before she could give you detailed intel. It made your lips purse harshly. He was peeved he didn’t even know you existed an hour ago, you were peeved at his sense of entitlement in the moment. 

Natasha trusted him, and Sam. You think that was what counted, despite keeping a consistent cold gaze.

You assume Natasha didn’t explain much about you. But Steve saw the way you tensed as they mentioned Hydra and the Winter Soldier. It made you think of what would have happened if you were to have ever accepted Fury’s attempt at recruitment. 

Maybe they would have recaptured you. Natasha, Clint nor Fury would have never known a thing. A failed mission. Back in a cage. Stuck with him. 

…

You didn’t think you could feel such an emotion. Both fear and a hint of thrill. It felt wrong, so debilitating as your mind ran a mile a minute. He had stared right at you, his cold gaze sharp as he pointed his rifle right at your chest from atop the highway. 

Almost made your heart flutter. 

Nat had taken the bullet for you, giving you a look of annoyance as you both hid behind a car. You wince when she winces. You almost miss the way bullets were starting to shower over you. 

You run with her, gripping onto her shoulder as you pass by cars, using them as temporary protection. But he was like an unstoppable bull, he reached you before you could run further. 

The handle of his rifle hits Natasha’s temple. She’s out and before he could take a shot, you redirect his aim, gripping the nozzle and pushing away. The heat from the bullets burns your hand slightly. 

You fended off as much as you could but he was so brutal. Even more so than before. He’d punch and miss, hitting the car behind you as if he wanted you to hear the metal bend and the glass shatter. 

An instinctual block with your forearms leads to a punch in a vulnerable opening. You feel your rib cave in against his metal fist. Now, you’re suddenly pressed against him and a metal frame. 

He hesitates, he doesn’t shoot, his hand is at your neck, pushing you against the door of the car, bending the metal with the force. Your eyes lock onto his, staring him down into clarity. He leans in closer as you grip onto his wrist. 

You’re lightheaded, the world starts to swirl around you as his head inches closer to your cheek. He inhales sharply, you shiver and close your eyes tightly. His hair tickles your neck, casting a shadow over you, encompassing you with his frame. 

Your cheeks prick with warmth, you swallow thickly as his nose, covered with a mask, glides over your jaw. You hear him mutter under his breath, imperceptible if not for the close proximity.

“Fuck…” 

His eyes fluttered as if he had inhaled stardust. Then his eyes lock onto yours, it makes you tremble. He looked pained, confused, and betrayed. 

The sound of metal hitting metal shocks you out of your frozen state. You fall to the floor on your hands and knees, your hand rising to your throat as you take a deep breath in. You watch as Steve pushes him away from the area, using his shield as both weapon and defense. 

“Natasha!” he shouts. His head turns in your direction as he dodges a swipe, his face showing annoyance at your lack of action to check on her unconscious state. 

Your hands tremble as you find a barely there pulse, attempting to stop the bleeding on her shoulder. Your mind was elsewhere. 

…

Los Angeles, U.S.

April 2000

He watches as you undress. The gown was a light blue, silk and flowy, neckline pressing your breasts up. You were glamorous. You take one last look in the mirror before undoing your hair. 

You hid your bloodied hands with your chiffon shawl, prompting a swift exit as everyone gathered outside the venue for a firework display. Hydra didn’t like when promises aren’t followed through. Politicians thought they were exempt from failure. 

He didn’t remember much. He did remember your scent. Every time. His hands rested against your hips for a moment, your raise a brow at his fleeting touch. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, watching you scrub under your fingernails. 

Your job was to get the target in a room with him. He finishes the job, always. You didn't follow through with the agreement this time.  

“You should have waited.”

You ignore him. Using a rag to wipe your makeup off. Red swirls in the sink. You hum. Maybe. 

“It's faster this way.” 

His brows furrow. He wants to protect you. Sparing you from the killing was meant to make a wall, a translucent wall, all things given, to prevent promoting you from spy to murderer. 

You turn to him, leaning against the porcelain sink.

“You've been gone. I’ve had to follow through.” 

You nod firmly, swallowing thickly. Times have started to change, women were given more access to politics, powerful positions. It was easier to use you now. 

You've been out of cryo for more than 300 consecutive days now. He's been out for 9. You almost wish you could be put back in. He stands, you could tell he wanted to apologize as if it was his fault. It irritated you when he looked at you in pity. 

“Maybe I’m better than you now,” you quip, shrugging your shoulders. He huffs a short laugh as he walks across the bathroom to stop in front of you. 

“Maybe.” 

He leans in, nose brushing against yours. His hands squeeze your shoulders and glide down, tracing over your arms to cup your hands. You close your eyes in a shaky sigh. 

“I hope so,” he mutters.

His hand glides up to your breast, squeezing it roughly, pinching your nipple. His flesh hand reaches your throat, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck as his thumb caresses your skin. You swallow thickly. 

“You shouldn’t be here, soldat.” 

He hums. Your tone was teasing. As if you were a couple playing a role, to spice up a marriage. Maybe you’d be waiting at a bar, silky, flowy light blue dress. He’d walk up to you, in a suit. His hair up? Trimmed?  

He’d ask where your husband was- no- how such a beautiful woman such as yourself found herself all alone. You’d do that thing with your mouth, hiding a smile with the purse of your lips. Feigning disinterest but having that twinkle in your eye. 

Your hands move to his chest, unbuckling the harness of his vest. He closes his eyes, imagining your deft fingers plucking the buttons of his suit jacket open. 

He loves feeling normal. Neither of you should be ‘here’.

Your hands press against his bare chest, feeling his dewy skin, inhaling his musk. 

“I missed you,” you mutter. His hand moves down your spine, zipping down your dress as he pulls it aside. For a moment you wish you could have stopped his analytical gaze. You watch him closely, his brows pinch as you let the dress fall to the floor in a soft thud. 

“I’m sorry.”

You huff, raising his chin up to look at you in the eyes. 

It was like your husband coming home from a business trip. He imagines this is what it would have felt like coming back from a war. New scars, changed bodies. His metal fingers graze over your newer scars, some still angry and red, causing you to wince at the pressure. 

You pull his head down, slotting your lips onto his. You didn’t like the pity. Yet, you like the gentleness it gives you. 

He takes you to bed, body crawling over yours, pressing you against the mattress. He yearns for control, his knee between your legs, not allowing you to move. You liked his control too, allowing him to take you to a space you decided you wanted to go. 

You often wonder if they knew. His handlers. Your teachers in the Red Room. You assume that was why they had started to distance you both over the years. 

He mouths against the side of your throat, his thrusts erratic as you melt against the mattress. His pelvis grinds against yours, sitting up and spreading your legs further to watch his cum ring around his cock. 

Your eyes were half lidded, mouth agape in a continuous breathy moan. You appreciate the super soldier serum for many reasons. His stamina was seemingly endless, his refractory period nonexistent. 

His cock was as insistent as he was. It filled you to the brim, and you squeezed him so tight every time. You swear you feel him in your belly at times, you’d place his hand there, he’d lose it, making it his mission to pronounce the bulge with each thrust. 

He leaves bruises as he grips onto your hips. He pushes the back of your thighs forward, your knees on either side of your head. He dives in deeper, you swear he was going to tear into your cervix. 

You whine as he pulls out suddenly. He watches as you catch your breath, your eyes clearing of a pleasure struck haze. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the room smelled of sex and sweat. You shift on the sheets and groan at the wetness. 

You wipe your brow, watching as he stares at you, contemplating what to do next. His cock bobs against his stomach, twitching as his hands roam over your body, squeezing your thighs, drifting to your breasts and pushing them together. 

He liked exploring, you noticed. He liked learning what you liked, what you didn’t. He stands and you sit up. You swallow thickly in worry, you reach out a hand.

“James-”

Your back hits the mattress and you're dragged to the edge of the bed by your ankle. You yelp as his arms entangle with your legs, his head between them and latching onto your bundle of nerves. He groans at the taste, his arms grip onto your thighs, the metal appendage vibrating and expanding. The plates pinch your skin. 

He thinks he could die like this, buried between your thighs, holding you down as he watches his cum drip from your cunt, tasting you on his tongue. He makes you cry from overstimulation, he’s obsessed with your pussy. 

He watches from your pelvis, your head thrown back, body flush in sweat, tears gliding down your eyes as your back arches in orgasm for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

He’d keep you like this forever. 

…

Washington, D.C.

March 7, 2014

She winces every few seconds. She notes that you barely acknowledge it, too busy on your computer, reading through the files upon files on everything Hydra she uploaded on the internet three days ago. 

The first thing you had told her when she had been discharged from the hospital was that she was stupid. She chuckled in your face, you rolled your eyes. The widow bites stung, she could have killed herself. But she knew that. 

She was getting ready to go to the government hearing about S.H.I.E.L.D. 's downfall. You heard they were calling them terrorists on the news. You didn’t like the spotlight it was putting on her. On the files. In your past, heavily recorded as you’ve discovered the past few days. 

She walks out of the cafe, giving you a tight lipped smile as she fights through the tremors she still felt. It was hidden well. You on the other hand had other business to attend to. 

Steve had asked for your presence, still recovering from his fall into the Potomac river. You had given him an edible arrangement. Sam had mentioned he didn’t like pineapple like that. You made sure there were a lot of it. He ate it, so you were told. 

“You knew him.” 

You nod, you look at the damage ‘Bucky’ had done to him. It was brutal. You imagine he’d be long gone if not for the serum running through his veins. You almost feel guilty, you don’t know why. It felt as if you were visiting someone your ex-boyfriend had jumped. Somewhat your responsibility. Really not. You try to deflect the feeling.

“Everyone knew about him, basically a legend-”

“You knew him. Like I did.” 

You sigh heavily, crossing your arms. It was complicated. He knew you didn’t want to talk about it, much less to him. 

“You knew Buck.”

He sits up, trying to meet your eye as you look anywhere but at him. His irritation was directed towards you, you assume the frustration as well. You understood but it didn’t sit right with you. 

“No, I didn’t know Buck. I knew the asset.” 

He was James to you. Steve’s eyes narrowed harshly. As if you had cursed on his mother’s grave. 

“He recognized me. He’s still in there.” 

You shake your head as you look out the window, not knowing what to say. He recognized you too. It must be so confusing for him, remembering two different parts of his life at the same time. One with more suffering than the other. 

You almost wish all he had to remember was being ‘Buck’. Steve shifts in bed, leaning closer to you. 

“Nat trusts you-” 

You stare at him exasperatedly and scoff. You knew where he was going with his point. You scowl and shift away. 

“Jesus-”

“I need your help. He’s out there.” 

“Maybe he wants to be left alone,” you retort back, almost sarcastically. He purses his lips and huffs a sigh. 

You stand and move to the door but he calls out to you once again, saying your name firmly.  

“Please. He’s all I have left.”

You turn back at him and he gives you so much pity it makes your heart sting. Nat trusts him. She cares about him. You sigh. 

“Okay.” 

He smiles and it looks weird considering half of his face was swollen and purple. You give a small pursed smile back at the image. You cross your arms as you lean against the doorframe. 

“Sam told me you didn’t like pineapple.” 

He chuckles, rubbing his temple and points to the trash bin hidden under the bedside table. 

“I know.”

--------------------

Thank you for reading! I have had this storyline in my mind since middle school lmao. Steve doesn't like pineapple bc I don't like pineapple. Reblogs and Comments welcome and appreciated! I love to hear your guy's thoughts.

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

I'm Not In Love (Part 2)

[thebatdadnomad]

ℕ𝕖𝕨𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕃𝕚𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕪

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN Librarian! Reader Summary: You register a hunk more nervous than a teenage boy and somehow become the reason he returns. Tags: Meet-Cute, Books, Kissing A/N: I can be quite the homebody, but I recently went my local library so I could finally read Pride & Prejudice (I think you know why ehehehe) and I think you should go too! Unfortunately, I can't promise Jay'll be there, but I promise this fic will help you imagine what it would be like if he was ;D

It was a slow spring day when a tall guy built like a fridge walked into the library you worked at.

You lounged behind the reception desk doing your usual duties of watching the door as the man in a leather jacket, dark jeans and a grey shirt looked around. He had his hands in his pockets, surveying the area not unlike a cop would during a stakeout. That comparison wasn't unfounded too, you had a cop in here last week. This was Gotham, after all. And though this man was significantly less alert and visibly armed, it was similarly intriguing to watch.

You briefly wondered if the Cheetos some kids left behind that your co-worker was currently cleaning up had caught his eye as he slowly approached the desk. Whether this guy was worried a terrible aunt was hiding behind a shelf or a drug dealer. What else could explain why someone your age was looking around a library so suspiciously? You hoped he wasn't in trouble, or hell, that he wasn’t the trouble.

Fortunately, the closer he got, the better you could read his body language. His skittish teal eyes, him brushing back trimmed curly hair with white highlights in the front, his bulking arm and thigh muscles tensing up, his flushed face...It soon became clear that he wasn't dubious, just nervous. Which wasn't entirely uncommon either. And, you belatedly realised, unnecessarily attractive. To the point that you had to swallow a sudden warmth that bloomed in the pit of your tummy for the sake of professionalism.

Once he was in acceptable talking range, you beamed. "Welcome to Newtown Library, how may I help you?"

The man startled at the sound of your voice and you had to bite your lip to reign in a laugh when his anxious gaze landed on you and widened almost unperceivably. It was only perceivable because you grew up in Newtown, Crime Alley's neighbour area, and made a habit of noticing things like that.

He swallowed and then asked in a low voice. "I...I wanna get a library card?"

"Sure," you smoothly replied and grabbed a sheet of paper you kept nearby. "First, I need ID and proof of address."

"Oh shi— shoot," his gaze snapped back to you; he coughed then dug around for his wallet. As if censoring himself for your sake. "That necessary?" He sounded surprised by the request but didn't protest when you nodded and he gave you a student ID card and a medical card. "Do...Do these work?"

"Yup!" You grinned and handed them back a moment later. Herbert Jason Johnson. What a name. "Now, you just need to sign this form physically or digitally via our website."

"Digital is fine," he muttered, scanning the QR code you had ready and filling it out online for a bit. You took that opportunity to study him. His light warm toned skin, his slightly red cheeks and defined chest. Woah... "I'm done."

You perked up. "Nice. If you just wait here, I'll go get the library card options for you to choose from..."

But before you could move, he did. Leather jacket crinkling as he stared you dead on for the first time since he came in. "It's a'ight...I'll be happy to take whichever you choose for me."

"Really?" He grunted; your smile broadened. "Alright. Then, yeah. I'll choose one for you."

So, you walked further back into the desk area and brought them out. An octopus, some bubbles, a sunset, a cool motorcycle— oh, he might like the last one. It seemed like he might even own one himself.

"Hm," you hummed, giving it to him. "Here, it's got wheels with spikes on it."

Then something unexpected happened. He laughed. It was a strange little thing that only lasted a couple of seconds. His mouth was snarky in a way like it wasn't used to curving up and hadn't done so in a while. But his eyes weren’t. His shiny teal eyes practically glowed with honest, unsullied amusement. This, more than anything, made the warmth in the pit of your tummy grow.

"I can see that. I like it, thanks," he huffed, turning it over in his hand.

You knew you'd be thinking of him all day now. "You're welcome. Feel free to browse the library and borrow anything you want with that card. It should work right away, otherwise, let me know and I can help."

You hoped he would take the offer, but it seemed like meeting him had absorbed all of your luck. He shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll probably head out...bye."

You watched him make an exit with a sense of longing, then called after him. "Herbert, right?"

But the guy just paused in his footsteps, sent you a small, nervous smile and corrected you. "Call me Jason."

"OK!" You replied still smiling and soon the cute, extremely hot guy called Jason was no more. You hoped he wasn't like those one-hit patrons and would visit again when it was your shift.

Well, would you look at that? You did have some luck left.

Just like you had hoped, Jason came back six more times which was more than you expected. Better yet, three of those times were on the days you worked.

According to your nosy colleagues – who were more than happy to gossip about this with you – he usually browsed the library shelves as if at an exhibition of his favourite artist, dressed in clothing best suited for a street racing film. Never picking anything up or taking anything out no matter how many times your co-workers and even the patrons asked him if he needed help.

Jason kept to himself too. Stared at various book spines with a wistful gaze and made a point to avoid your eyes any time he noticed you peering over. Or, at least, that was the impression you had until one day, you caught him glancing over at you and you couldn't help but approach him to try asking yourself if he needed that help.

Jason looked like a deer in headlights when he saw you were making your way over with a wide smile which made the warmth in your tummy reappear.

"Hey!"

"Hey," he slowly replied, shoving whatever he was looking at back on the shelves and shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Are you okay?"

Jason coughed, trying to straighten himself out. "Yeah, yeah...fine."

"Hm," but it didn't seem like it. Should you not have come?

"So...what’s up?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just coming over here to ask you if you needed any help," you put a hand in front before he could deny you, hoping to convince him with a joking tone. "I know you usually just browse, but I mean, this is a library. So, we kind of assume that people are eventually gonna pick something up, not just look at them from the shelves, you know?"

But Jason seemed to take it seriously. "Oh, sorry. Am I doin’ somethin' I'm not supposed to?"

"No, no, you're fine," you quickly backtracked. "I'm just joking, you can browse all you want. But...usually, the people who always browse are either too indecisive to choose a book on their own and would perhaps benefit from some recommendations or—"

“What would ya recommend then?" He cut you off, but you could tell that instead of being impatient, he was asking out of eagerness. An eagerness that couldn't help but find endearing. Man, how could he be so cute and overwhelmingly hot at the same time?

"I…I'd have to know what kind of books you're interested in first."

"...What kinda books d’ya think I'd be into?"

You put a hand on your chin and hummed. "That's a hard question. That's like me asking you how old I look or something. But, OK. I'm always up for a challenge. Let's see..." you used this opportunity to check him out and oh my thighs—! "M-Maybe romance books or crime and mystery, no, action books?" You tried and waited for a moment on bated breath as Jason tilted his head in thought before nodding.

"Yeah...you're right."

You laughed and while he didn't laugh as well, his furrowed brows and small nervous smile were just as heart-warming.

"Are you serious? I got it right?"

"Yeah..."

"But half of those were jokes!"

"Maybe I'm a joke," Jason dryly replied.

"No!" You grinned. "I feel like you've read all the books here. Or, at least, you seem like you're familiar with them. So, maybe you should try something new? Something outside of those genres."

"Hm, well..." He looked down the row of books and sent a hesitant glance your way. "What do you like?"

That was the question, wasn't it? "Well, I guess really like hero and fantasy stories. So, I have lots of fantasy recommendations...is that alright?"

Jason shrugged. "Sure. What d’ya recommend?"

"Well, that, my friend, is gonna take me a while to answer," you joked again, acting all dramatic-like. "You sure you have the patience?"

And that finally got one of his odd chuckles out of him. "Go for it."

So, the pair of you browsed the relevant sections while you talked and talked about the different books you enjoyed. All of which he politely declined. Trying to find a fantasy book with action or romance or crime in it was a daunting task, one you didn’t have much hope for.

But then, just before you gave up hope and Jason lost his patience, you stumbled upon one of your favourites of all time. A book series full of all four subgenres that you thought would be perfect for him.

You pulled it out, beaming with a huge sigh of relief. "This is it. Take this."

"Er..." Jason flipped it around, contemplative, but you wouldn't let him turn this down too. So, you grabbed his hands and ignored how red both he and you suddenly got at the contact for the sake of him reading it.

"Trust me, don't even think. Just take this and read it. I promise you'll love it."

His eyes were slightly wider again as he stared at you, his hands, the book, and you again. Only replying when you let go. "OK...I...I trust you."

And you were happy he did because once he started that series, he couldn't put it down.

Ever since you recommended him one of your favourite books, whenever Jason visited the library, he came straight to you. To tell you what he thought before returning that novel and getting the next one.

You knew this was a temporary thing, most people didn't stay regulars for long, it was normal. So, you would appreciate this as long as you could.

The first book was brighter and energetic and it put him in a similar mood. It made him hyper – well, hyper for him – when he explained how much he enjoyed it and how ingeniously it was written.

"I just— loved the addition of a poem within a novel," Jason ranted, eyes shining with interest a few weeks after you initially checked it out for him. "It was amazing."

"I'm glad," you smiled as you locked eyes.

"...Me too," your tummy fluttered, his building familiarity and confidence around you only served to make you that much more attracted to him. Too bad he would likely stop coming at some point.

The next edition was a bit more mellow and so you had to go find him when he was putting it back two weeks later.

"Hey, you didn't come see me?"

“Oh...yeah, sorry."

Silence.

You watched him with wary eyes as he just stayed kneeling on the floor. You slowly lowered yourself too when he didn't move and only when he met your eyes with a blank gaze did you ask. Smiling as much as you could.

"How did you find it?"

Neither of you breathed until he answered.

"I...I kinda had a bad week and this book didn't help much."

"Oh," shit. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have—"

But he vigorously shook his head, bringing the pair of you back up to a stand when he noticed you down on the floor with him. "No. I still really liked it. It just kinda emphasised how fuc— friggin’ terrible my week was."

"Oh," you deflated a bit. That hadn't been your intention. "If you want to talk about it, I'm always here."

"…Really?"

"Yeah, of course. Contrary to what you look like, you're super sweet and I want to help you if I can."

He paused. "What do I look like?"

You had to pause, carefully considering how to put this. "Honestly...you look like someone who wouldn't come here to rant to me about some fantasy book series I recommended. Someone who spends more time drinking and partying than reading. Someone who wouldn't stop himself from swearing in front of me," you timidly touched your hair. "Like I said, you're super sweet and...I like hearing you talk."

Jason said nothing for a moment, poring over you as if trying to determine how truthful that statement was. But once he decided to believe you, you never would've expected that this shy, literary enthusiast hunk would actually tell you what was on his mind. Would even talk about a dangerous job, a complicated relationship with his family and a cooking habit.

Sure, he was very vague about it all but still. You couldn’t believe he was letting you peer into his life more than you had before. Or that you weren't the only one combusting inside when his hand accidentally brushed your waist before he left. But that day was full of surprises that almost made you forget that he would stop coming at some point. Most people did. He was no exception.

The saddest and lowest point in the series was the third book.

In contrast to the first few, Jason's reaction was starkly different from the tone of the book. In fact, he seemed relieved that it took a dive for the worst and read it through within a week this time.

"I really enjoyed the way the author used tragic flaws to tell amazing character arcs ‘n plots in a way that a lot of other stories don't. And it does it all in a cohesive fantasy setting..."

"I'm happy to hear that," you smiled.

He talked more about how the main character's struggles with identity and survival related to him, prompting you to share how they related to you too. Bonding over the book like you did last week, but differently this time. Because you were also sharing. It was mutual.

So mutual that, after you scanned the third book he brought in, Jason stole it from your hands telling you he was happy to put it back and go get the next one this time. You felt compelled to go with him to the right shelves. Intending to take it back from him at the last moment, shelve it and find him the next one in one swoop. It was your job, after all, and you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could even if he was trying to make work easier for you.

But, when the time came, Jason was reluctant to let go of the book. Too deep into his own mind and ranting to separate from it. So, with cheeks as hot as a stove, you replaced the novel with your hand and swapped them out. Handing him the book he needed a beat later.

And if you thought he blushed before...that had nothing on his face now.

Not that you were much better though.

"Are you excited to read the last one then?" You asked after a moment of quiet passed between you, your hands still loosely linked together.

"Y-Yeah," Jason quickly nodded, gaping at you with what could only be described as wonder. "I just don't know how this is gonna end exactly...but I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll like it. I'll tell you."

"Mhm! And just think, after I hear the full review, you won't have to come here and talk to me anymore, will you?"

You bet he would be happy about that. Just because you had gotten closer, didn't mean that he had become any more comfortable in the library. Your colleagues still said that outside of your conversations, he acted just as on edge as he had from the start, so you wouldn’t try to pressure him into coming back after finishing this one obligation of sorts.

Maybe libraries just weren’t for him and that was OK. Because while you'd miss him, you doubted there was anything to say to stop him from never returning. This is the digital age, people stopped visiting libraries for less. Way less.

It was best to be positive about the whole thing.

"Oh," Jason frowned, suddenly disentangling your hands and turning away so you couldn't see his face. "Yeah, you're right," he muttered before despondently leaving you by the shelf, borrowing the book on his own and literally dashing out of the library.

What the...?

No, no, there wasn't a point in pondering that. The last book...you could ask what that was when he returned with the last book. You could still leave this, whatever this was, on a good note once he was done with the last book.

You were relabelling some older editions of iconic titles when you felt a finger poking your back two days later.

"Oh!" You flinched as you finished the one you were on, then jumped once more when you recognised him as the culprit. "Jason! Hey! When did you come in?"

He seemed more anxious than usual as he bit his lip with furrowed brows. He was back far sooner than you expected, had he quit the finale midway? "Just now...since it's raining and everything, I thought I'd pop in and say hey."

It stopped raining an hour ago. "Ohhh kaaay...well, hey. What's up?" And why did he run off last time?

"Well, I just finished reading the last book of the series."

You blinked in surprise. That wasn't what you expected him to say. No, not at all. But it was a great series, you had binged it just as speedily when you first came across it. "Woah. That was quick, it usually takes you at least a week to read one."

Jason tried to shrug, but his shoulders were too rigid for it to come across flippantly. "Yeah, well, I guess I was just so into the story, I lost myself in it…it was real good."

After some light prodding, Jason started telling you his usual review, but it was detached for some reason. He was speaking more about the character he liked the most than how he resonated with the story and plots as he used to.

"I can already guess that most people probably preferred his brother, but I don't know. I just got him more. I wanted to root for ‘im. Especially after his lil redemption arc where he got all close and personal with the protagonist."

Jason kept going and you watched him with the books you had been in the process of reorganising in your hands, too distracted by the fact that this guy who you still didn't really know loved something you did to say anything else.

"I'm really glad that you enjoyed it!" You blurted out when he was done.

"Yeah, me too," he took a deep breath before turning to look at you directly. "That epilogue kinda...reminded me of us in a way, y’know?"

"Oh, yeah?" You began putting the books back, desperately ignoring the fluttering feeling in your stomach at his words. "How?"

"I mean, throughout the book, he kept explicitly and implicitly asking for help. Time and time again the MC he was in love with ended up being the one to help him until the end of the journey when they separated. And it's like what you do for me..."

"Mhm. I guess."

"But, of course…there's one difference. We've not...never…y’know?"

You choked and froze in place. Where was this going?

"But I've been thinking about what you said last time,” your eyes met his shiny teal ones. “Now that I'm done with the series and doing reviews or whatever...Unless you can recommend something else this good, I don't have any other reason to be here right now. Except," Jason studied you for a long moment as your eyebrows rose higher and higher and your face grew warmer. "You. My protagonist."

You didn't know what to say to that, except breathe. "We're in a public space."

That seemed to snap him out of it and he practically curled in on himself. Crossing his bulging arms, moving to face away from you as if browsing the shelves like before. "Y-Yeah, yeah, 'course! Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so f-fuck— friggin’ sleazy. It just came to mind—"

Suddenly, desperate to salvage this, you stopped what you were doing, took a step towards him and pressed a soft peck on his cheek before leaning away. Jason’s neck practically snapped back in your direction as he stared at you with an incredulous look on his face.

You...hadn't meant to do that, but now that you had. "It’s fine, I was just shocked…I wouldn't mind a little roleplay..." You whispered, not intending for it to sound so dirty but uncaring that it did. Was this why he left? Was he really thinking the same thing as you? Gah! You hoped so.

Jason was so cute and hot, you wanted to kiss him again. Properly this time. You wanted to be the reason he returned.

You wanted him.

Jason audibly swallowed and slowly uncrossed his arms. Asking, "You sure?" To clarify things. "Because I mean, like I said...you don' hafta."

You fully intended to reply with words, but something jolted through you again at the sight of his open arms. Prompting you to step forward to peck him on the lips this time. A shiver ran down your spine at the contact.

"No, I don't," you replied.

And that was what shut Jason up. That was what made him lean close to kiss you his way now.

It began as a series of pecks, simple pressings of lips together that made you go warm with delight. His lips were softer than you expected and he was way too gentle. But then things slowly developed into smooches that lasted longer and longer until you were melting in his arms.

Arms? Since when did he put his arms around you? They were secure as they kept you close and you pressed your chests together. As he touched your jaw and you gripped his shoulder. As your wet tongue slipped out and met his without a word, as if in sync. Hesitantly tasting each other in a way that put you out of breath because of the intimacy instead of the speed.

Jason was sweet, tasted sweet and looked sweet when you pulled back, quietly gasping with a string of saliva momentarily tying your tongues together. As if he had been holding himself back until this very moment and was only now letting you know what he thought of you.

It was as staggering as it was relatable.

His voice was unexpectedly fond as he mumbled. "I've wanted to do that for a while, but I didn’t have the balls. I...I wasn’t sure if you were interested."

That made you shake your head in amusement. How had he not noticed? "Jason, I was always interested in you. Why do you think I stop everything I'm doing to talk to you whenever you come in?"

He snorted despite how visibly embarrassed he seemed. "Because you're a good worker?"

"Please," you joked, revelling in the feeling of him tightening his big arms around you. "Even I can be selfish sometimes."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, basking in the unfamiliar but welcome lack of distance between you two. All until somebody somewhere coughed and you sprung apart. Right. You needed to get back to work.

Jason was the first to comment, rubbing the back of his neck as he sent you a weak smile. "Well...I'll let you get back to it."

"OK, but if you want to come back when we’re done that's OK too. We could go for burgers...?" You asked, grin widening at how awkward he was, even now.

"…Fuc— I mean…aw yeah."

You laughed out loud.

Fuck yeah, indeed. Because just like he was glad to know you’d always liked him, you were ecstatic to know that all that time you spent worrying about him never returning left you oblivious to the fact that you became the reason he did.

MASTERLIST

[belleski]

this is one of my favourite scenes in all of Taz and i've wanted to draw something for it for ages now but then this took almost 6 months to finish because i had to keep stopping to figure out character designs aaaaaaaaaa

Indrid Cold my favourite guy of all time

Image description: A two page digital comic depicting a scene from The Adventure Zone – Amnesty where the player characters (Duck, Ned and Aubrey) meet Indrid Cold (the mothman.) The entire comic is drawn in shades of red with yellow highlights. Page 1: A smaller panel shows the interior of a camper van, with Indrid cast in shadows, reaching towards a scrap of paper on the wall. Behind him, Duck, Ned and Aubrey watch in confusion. The next panel is of Indrid from behind, silhouetted against the bright red of the wall holding dozens of pinned sheets over a map of Kepler. He is holding up the now removed scrap of paper in one hand and smiling, the yellow paper and his glasses standing out against the darkness. There is a yellow speech bubble coming from him that says ‘Okay.’ The last panel takes up most of the page and shows Duck, Ned and Aubrey reacting in shock to Indrid’s statement. The speech bubbles continue: ‘The funicular that connects topside and riverside is about to come crashing down the mountain, slamming into town, and destroying the base station.’. Behind the three players, there is a funicular train climbing a mountain – the full scale of which is shown behind it. Page two: Yellow text in the top left and right corners reads: ‘There are three passengers on it right now, they’ll all be killed- With two circular panels depicting three people on the funicular in one, and a man reading a newspaper in the other – his radio discarded on the table in front of him. Below these panels the text continues, first in yellow with: ‘-and an engineer at the base station will be injured as well, but he’ll pull through.’ And then in two red circular speech bubbles: ‘Good news though! You have six minutes this time.’ The two red speech bubbles surround Indrid as he faces the viewer with a grin, his eyes completely obscured by his red circular glasses. In one hand, he holds out the scrap of paper – a drawing of a funicular train falling down a mountain now visible on it, and behind him the wall is covered in scraps of paper that fade into the darkness of the background. [End ID]

[darlingdaisyfarm]

TO MAKE A FATHER

he’s been gone for months, and the only thing that got you through was the thought of him coming home and putting a baby in you

tags: nsfw, smut, birthday sex, breeding kink, vaginal sex & fingering, praise kink, pet names, established relationship, soft dom Stan but he’s losing his mind so it turns into rough sex, mating press, post sailing Stan, pussy drunk, father’s day got a little too literal, ovulation mentioned, pregnancy kink... i guess... idk...

comments or reblogs are highly appreciated, ty!

it was Stan’s birthday. and he was supposed to come back from sea only in a week, but god, you already missed him so fucking bad you felt feral with it. he’d been away for three months, just three, not a year like the last time, because Ford had promised this expedition wouldn’t be long. they needed to retrieve one last thing, map one last trench, and then they'd be home. a short voyage. no big deal. thank fucking god for that. because when Stan left for nearly a whole year last time, you honestly thought you might die of sheer fucking loneliness.

it was summer now. Mabel and Dipper were due back next week, just in time for the full Pines family reunion. the party was already planned, you just had to wait. one more week. that’s what you kept telling yourself, just one more week.

but even then, you couldn’t. everything inside you was missing him too much.

the postcards he’d been sending weren’t enough anymore, not when you couldn’t hug him, kiss him, bury your face in that stupid oversized chest.

and worse was that your period had ended, so you checked your ovulation tracker this morning, and like clockwork, your hormones were in open revolt. your body was aching, flushed and need-starved, and you hadn’t even touched yourself these past few days, because nothing, not your fingers, not some pathetic silicone toy, could replace that bastard’s cock.

his mouth, the filthy shit he always moaned right into your ear when he had you trembling under him.

and you were starving for it. for him.

too tired to be awake and too restless to sleep. the sheets felt too cold in places, too hot in others, and your body refused to listen, so you gave up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

mug cake, maybe? you didn’t even know what your hands were doing. chocolate powder, milk. . . the smell was soft, but your brain was far, far away.

wait. was that. . . you froze, looking toward the window. was that really. . .?

no. it couldn’t be.

but you knew the sound of that beat-up car like the back of your hand.

your heart slammed stupidly in your chest and you barely made it to the front door before it opened, and there he stood, there he fucking stood.

Stanley.

still as tall and as broad-shouldered as ever.

his duffel slung over one shoulder, a soldier returning from war. his boots were caked with old salt and dirt, looking like he’d come straight from the docks to you. his red beanie sat over that growing-back mullet. and fuck, he still had that smile. that stupid fucking smile.

“what. . . but you weren’t supposed to be back for another seven days, Stanley! what the fuck. . .” you stammered, half-laughing, in utter disbelief. “what the hell is this— some birthday prank?”

Stan dropped the duffel to the floor with a meaty thud and was on you in two strides flat, arms cinching around your waist so fast it knocked the breath out of your lungs. god, you almost forgot what it felt like to be held like this. how his arms didn’t hug so much as claim. how his palms were incapable of staying above your waist for longer than thirty seconds without twitching down like they had a mind of their own, creeping toward the curve of your ass.

“i couldn’t wait,” he mumbled against your neck, already kissing the skin there, scratchy with stubble and breathless from the drive. “i tried. told myself i could stick it out, but c’mon, doll, a week? i nearly jumped ship. told Ford id lose my goddamn mind if i spent another week on that boat without my girl.

“but— wait, where’s Ford? weren’t you two supposed to come back together?”

“we did, we docked one hour ago. Ford said he wanted to jump off early, head to Fiddleford’s place and stay the night. said somethin’ about picking up that weird magnetic equipment thing they were rambling about for the past six months. . . oh, don't look at me like that, sweetie. he’ll be fine. i had more important things to get home to.”

you snorted. “god. nerds.”

“that’s what i said,” Stan chuckled, finally pulling back to look at you, hands still curled heavy around your waist, thumbs grazing over your skin because he couldn’t stop touching you if he tried. “two genius freaks, holed up together for the night. who knows what the hell they’ll get up to. maybe Ford’ll finally confess he’s in love with the guy and they’ll be makin’ out over a microscope.”

you rolled your eyes, heart still hammering. “god, Stan, if you got yourself arrested for speeding just to get laid—“

“wasn’t just for gettin’ laid,” he grinned, and pulled you closer. “missed you like hell, sweet thing. had to see my girl before i lost my mind. swear, if i spent one more night with my brother muttering about magnetic ley lines i was gonna walk off the edge of the damn boat.”

you hated how warm your chest felt. hated how much you loved this stupid, salt-crusted, grinning bastard.

“counted down every day, every minute. told myself i’d wait ‘til the birthday party, make it a surprise, but fuck, this’s better. you’re the only gift i wanted anyway.”

and then, just like that, your feet weren’t on the floor anymore, his hands were already full of you, lifting you into his arms with practiced ease. your reaction kicked in before sense could catch up as your legs wrapped around his hips in one motion.

“what the f— Stan! i’m heavy, put me down—“ you choked out through a half-laugh, face buried into his neck as you held on like the ocean might come crashing through the walls.

“sweetheart,” he groaned, one large hand landing on your ass with a sharp, adoring smack, “ive had safes and debts much heavier than you, so be a good girl and don’t insult yourself.”

you clung tighter, because what else could you do? this strong man always made you feel like gravity was optional. those broad arms, roped with age-earned strength, held you steady as he walked to the bedroom.

Stanley dropped you to the bed but never let go, not really. you fell together, a clumsy landing softened by kisses and clenched thighs. you hadn’t even realized your mouth had found his until you tasted sea salt.

“missed you,” he growled against your lips, voice almost trembling now, body taut with restraint. “missed you so goddamn much. couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you, sweetheart, i need you, i need you right now—“

Stanley hadn’t even bothered to undress all the way, too impatient to take everything off. besides, sex with clothes on had always felt hotter to him, more desperate and fucked-up, something about two people so worked up they couldn’t even get their damn pants off properly.

you heard the sound of his belt unfastening, and already saw his trousers halfway down his hips. you couldn’t help but laugh when you noticed how badly his hands were trembling.

“you really missed me, huh?” Stan mumbled into your neck, lowering his lips to your collarbone, leaving scorching kisses against your skin. “fuck, baby, wanna be inside you so so bad.”

what a rhetorical question, you barely had time to think, before he yanked your oversized shirt up, groaning at the sight of your tits, then dove in.

“yeah, Stan, fuck, yes, baby, missed you so bad—“ you gasped, feeling his wet tongue dragging over your nipple as he sucked it deep into his mouth.

it was so unfair, how you were already nearly naked and he was still fully dressed. unfair, unfair, unfair. you wanted to touch him too, wanted to place your palms over his belly, feel the hair on his chest, moan into his warm neck and scratch down his back, knowing how smug he’d walk around later, pausing in front of every mirror just to admire the marks you left him.

your back arched the second you felt his fingers on your clothed clit. Stan was still hungrily mouthing at your tits as if expecting milk to come out, and you twitched when the pad of his finger pressed against your swollen bundle of nerves. god. god. god. that was it. yes, yes, yes. you didn’t dare close your legs, though your whole body begged for it. it was just too much. too good and sensitive. especially after not being fucked for three whole months. when normally you couldn’t even last two days without him.

Stan finally pulled off your nipple, leaving behind a flushed, wet mark. for a second or two, he just stared at you, his girl, all flushed and needy, and then finally, finally, he tore your panties off with such roughness it made your stomach tighten.

you were soaked. not a word left your lips, but words weren’t even needed. Stanley stilled and didn’t dare move, only stared. stared like it was the first time again, as if he’d never seen anything more more beautiful in his life.

“oh holy moses,” his big hands slid under your thighs and spread you open, his sweet baby, the best damn gift he could’ve asked for on his fucking birthday. “you look so fucking good, princess. swear to god, i could die right here.”

his cock twitched visibly against his stomach, but he didn’t even touch himself. “been thinkin’ about this pussy, fuck. . . been dreamin’ about seeing it again,” he muttered, running two thick fingers through your soaked folds, gently spreading them apart. and then, because of course he did, he brought those fingers up to your lips, grinning. “come on, sweetheart.”

honestly, Stanley didn’t know how he didn’t cum right then and there, watching you sluttily suck his fingers in, licking every inch of them while your eyes got glassy from how badly you needed him inside you.

“atta girl. my good fuckin’ girl.” just from those words alone, you nearly whined out loud, and Stan noticed, the bastard, so he said it again, softer this time, “yes? you like it when i call you that? of course you do. such a good girl. my sweet baby.”

and those same wet fingers were between your legs again before you could ask, slowly sliding inside, curving so good that you moaned louder, remembering every god you knew from every religion, thanking them that Ford was still with Fidds and the kids wouldn’t be back for another week.

Stanley left kisses, if they could even be called that, greedy, open-mouthed sucks along your stomach, thighs and the inside of your thighs while he fingered your pussy.

your own fingers tangled into his grown-out mullet, slightly damp at the roots, and you pulled him up, trembling, eyes filled with tears you could barely hold back. “i need you,” you begged. “please. just— fuck, please! need your cock, i can’t— can’t wait anymore.”

in response, Stan leaned over, placing his palm on your thigh, pinning you down against the bed.

“easy, easy, slow down, doll,” he laughed, and if you weren’t so turned on and weak in the knees, you’d have socked him in the jaw right then for being such a tease. “lemme take my fuckin’ time with you. haven’t touched you in three months, m’gonna memorize you again.”

not even a second passed before his fingers started moving. again. slowly stroking, curling deep inside your cunt while his thumb traced slow circles around your throbbing clit, and all you could feel was yourself dripping right down onto the sheets.

it wasn’t even embarrassing to realize you’d nearly come in under two minutes. god, yes yes yes, you wanted to finish all over his fingers, while he massaged your clit just like that. Stanley, please, your brain was practically crying out, just let me have this one, please, and yet—

Stan knew you far too well.

he saw how your body writhed and how your moans morphed into choked gasps, that helpless thing of breathing that only came when you were so close you couldn’t think anymore. he saw how your pussy was sucking his fingers in, refusing to let go, clenching like it wanted to trap him inside forever.

yeah, he thought, smug bastard that he was, my sweet little thing’s about to come.

but wouldn’t it feel better if you came clenching around his cock instead?

and just like that, his fingers slipped out of you, so sudden and cruel, that the lack of sensation made your whole body jolt. left you achingly empty, so empty it brought tears to your eyes.

your head shot up. eyes red, lips parted as you grabbed him by the wrist with shaking fingers. “you asshole,” you sobbed, voice trembling. “fuck you, Stan—“ in your head, you were already planning revenge. next time he begged for a five-minute blowjob in between tours, you’d stop right before he could cum and pull the exact same stunt. let’s see how he fucking likes it.

but of course, Stan just chuckled. “what? i can’t tease my own birthday present a little?” he grinned, clearly pleased with himself, rubbing your thigh as if to soothe the betrayal, while doing absolutely nothing to fix it.

oh. right. his birthday. a date marked in red on the kitchen calendar. the day you’d spent months planning for, and somehow you still forgot, completely lost in the haze of arousal.

and then, it hit you. the second realization. father’s day. it wasn’t a joke. it really did fall on the same goddamn day this year.

you looked up at him with a lazy grin, rolling your hips upward toward where he was palming his cock now, his hand moving with long strokes to draw more blood to the shaft.

“you know your birthday falls on father’s day this year, right?”

Stan paused mid-stroke. “does it now?” he asked, oh, that voice. not playful anymore. your nod was enough, though, a line had been crossed.

“sweet fucking saints, don’t say shit like that unless you want me to knock you up right here, baby.”

you giggled innocently, despite the filthy wetness still dripping down your thighs. “well. . . sounds like you’ve got something to celebrate.”

his grip on his cock tightened. “yeah? you think i should fuck a goddamn baby into you, sweetheart? you want that? you want me to fill you up and let it take?” Stanley was hard now, painfully so. he rubbed the thick head of his cock up and down your folds, not entering yet, but enough for your pussy to flutter open around the tip, clenching at nothing, desperate to take him deeper.

you gasped when Stan's free hand pressed down gently on your lower belly. “wanna feel this tummy swell up, right here, sweetie. make you mine for real.”

your legs trembled as your hips jerked upward, chasing him. but you both knew the stakes.

the room spun slightly. god, he was hot teasing your pussy like this, but there was still enough sense left in your brain to mutter. “you gonna. . . use a condom?” your voice sounded disappointed.

“condom?” Stan paused, letting his cock rest there, brushing maddeningly against your wetness. then, he snorted, gliding his tip over your needy entrance, pretending he was deciding. “hmm, depends,” a lie. ”you ovulating?” he asked casually, voice too calm for someone who’d just threatened to breed you like a bitch in heat.

“yeah,” you swallowed thickly.

Stan grunted. “fuck. fuck.” he pulled back for a second and slapped the head of his cock against your pussy again, watching the way it jumped. “we could grab one,” he said, but made no movement to do so. “they’re in the drawer. second one down.” his hand stayed on his shaft, lazily rubbing it to keep himself hard.

hot belgian waffles, the idea of you, wet, flushed and begging under him, was almost too much already.

but you didn’t move either.

you just looked at him.

“you really gonna pull out on your birthday? c'mon. didn't you want to be a daddy?“

Stanley had no idea how he was supposed to not come just from that, it wasn’t even a question now. “you are evil, you know that? trying to get me to cum in you.”

your smile widened. “is it working?”

Stan knew he was playing with fire. the way he kept teasing himself too, hovering just outside of you, not sliding in, not yet, was pure torture. for both of you. because once that thick, leaking cock finally split you open, there was no going slow.

and god, he knew what he was working with. he knew his size and how often he lost control with you, how your tight little pussy made him feral. Stanley didn’t want to hurt you, he never did, but he also couldn’t stop this thing that rose in him every time you pulled him in like that, wet and trembling.

precum dripped from his tip like sap, and the way your slick coated the length of his cock only made it worse.

you looked down with dazed eyes and saw the moment he brought his hand to his mouth, dragging his tongue over his palm. “Stan, please,” your voice trembled like your thighs. and then he spat right into his hand, rubbed it down his shaft like he wanted to drown his cock in it, mixing his own saliva, precum and your wetness.

your mouth fell open. holy shit, why was that so damn hot?

“you gonna fuck me or marry me?” you teased, trying to keep your voice light, even as your body ached for him.

Stan groaned low in his chest, hand tightening around himself. “gonna do more than that, baby,” he nudged the head right against your entrance, slowly slipping inside. “gonna make sure you’re round next time i leave. gonna fuck a baby into you, princess.”

the second the word leave left his mouth, you flinched. a shadow passing through your face. obviously, you didn't like his words about leaving. but you didn’t get the chance to reply, because Stan pushed in.

a slow, thick slide, inch by inch as he pressed your hips down to stop you from wriggling away. your back arched violently and a cry ripped from your throat what made Stan cup your face as he kissed your jaw, whispering against your skin.

“shh, i got you. takin’ me so good, princess, so brave f’me. good girl, makin’ me feel like a man again.”

you gasped for air, fingers clawing at the sheets. god, you’d forgotten how big he was, forgotten how it felt, to be stretched and filled like this.

his cock pulsed inside you, and you could feel every damn vein, them throbbing against your walls as your pussy clenched in response, sucking him even deeper.

your brain turned to white noise. Stan said something about how tight you were, perfect and made for him, but all you could do was breathe like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing with no sound.

god. god.

you wanted to say, no, you’re just so big, Stan, but your lungs couldn’t form a single word. only shivers and tears.

and he hadn’t even moved normally yet.

Stanley's cock felt so good inside you, so thick, hard and pulsing, what made you dizzy. the ridges, the curve, the stretch, fuck, this man was perfect. you moaned right into his mouth. “mmghh, Stan. . . gosh, you feel so good”

“baby— fu-fuck, missed this pussy. m-missed how good she feels. holy shit. . .” you whispered something like ”don’t pull out, don’t ever pull out” and Stanley groaned right into you, pressing his forehead to yours, about to lose his goddamn mind.

it was logical that he would start moving but for some reason you weren't ready for it, so when Stanley started to slowly push into your body with heavy thrusts, then reaching deeper. faster. harder, your mouth dropped open in a perfect “o”. especially when his tip slammed into your cervix. again. again. again.

fortunately or unfortunately, Stanley was aware of this too, felt the way you clenched immediately and the way your pussy grabbed at him, and he barely held himself back from pounding into you like a goddamn animal.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he choked. “im that deep inside you, princess, huh.” and god help him, he hadn’t known he could get this damn feral just knowing his baby wanted to be bred.

unable to contain himself, Stan slammed into you much harder than before, changing the languid and gentle rhythm to a rougher one. sweat dripped from his jaw onto your chest as he pinned you open, driving his throbbing cock in and out, groaning at how good your starved pussy felt, fluttering and gripping him so hard it made his eyes roll back.

his tip kissed your cervix again and again until you were crying, sobbing loudly into his mouth with every slam. and these sounds only increased in volume when his hand found your clit and rubbed fast.

“come on, baby,” Stan growled. “milk my cock. wanna feel this sweet little pussy squeeze the fuck out of me.”

you whined, closing your eyes tightly and starting to wiggle your hips, feeling a shiver run through your body. “go-gonna cum, gonna cum. . .hnnghn, Stan, im cumming“

“yeah, do it. good. cum for me, sweetheart.”

cumming on his cock was fucking divine.

so good it almost scared you. you’d forgotten how good it could feel, to twitch and clench and gush around that thick, perfect length, after three months without him. three months of empty nights, cold sheets, and fingers that never got you even halfway there.

Stanley knew you like the back of his bruised hand, and it was almost insulting how quickly he adjusted. so when he felt you pulse around him like that, that telltale flutter of your cunt trying to milk him dry, he slowed down enough to draw it out.

and honestly, he was almost shocked he could do it, shocked he could resist.

but he did, and he started to move in slow, deliberate thrusts, rolling his hips in smooth, sensual circles. not thrusting anymore, but massaging, pressing that cock into every inch of you with agonizing control.

from Stan's lips fell those guttural, low moans, perfect gravelly sound you always loved, as he was watching your body seize and flutter from the inside, feeling your pussy contract around him. in response, you clawed at his wide shoulders, gasping, moaning and sobbing his name. back bent so sharply that any gymnast would’ve gasped in awe. and your whole body shuddered like you’d been struck by lightning.

Stan waited, patiently, such a good man, until the full-body spasm of your climax ebbed, before he leaned in and kissed you sloppily, shoving his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch of you inside and out. his tongue dragged over every soft corner of your mouth, so deep and thorough you started moaning again straight into his lips, barely able to breathe.

the bastard. he knew you needed a second to catch your breath. knew your lungs were still struggling from how hard you’d just come. and yet here he was, already fucking your mouth with his tongue like it was another hole for him to use.

god. what a man. what a sick, dirty, perfect man.

he treated you like a princess even when he was buried balls deep inside you. knew when to fuck you stupid and when to stop. knew when to rub your clit and when to grind that thick cock against your spot until you saw stars.

you’d never felt more adored.

“you alright, baby?” Stan brushed hair from your face with a tenderness that, honestly, didn’t match the way he was pounding you some minutes ago. “goddamn, you came so hard i thought you’d faint. like last time, huh?”

you laughed, cheeks going hot, and turned your head away, muttering under your breath. “oh no no no, we’re not talking about last time, Stan. i told you that was low blood sugar, okay?” what a good little liar you were.

because yeah, you had fainted. completely blacked out, limp with his cock still buried inside you. and for a full thirty seconds, Stan was convinced he’d fucked you to death.

no one was allowed to mention it ever again.

Stanley snorted softly, clearly still a little too proud of himself.

but now, the fog of climax was finally lifting, and beneath it, a new hunger bloomed, so you pulled Stan in closer, grazing your nails down his back, and gave your hips a teasing little wiggle, slow and bratty. the smile you flashed up at him said everything.

he got the message. oh, he got it.

“round two already?” he muttered, cock twitching back to life inside you.

“mm-hmm,” you purred. “but this time i want it real. wanna feel you cum in me, with me. wanna make a mess. make me yours. on your birthday, on father’s day, gosh, just fill me up already. you said you wanted to be a father so bad. . .”

that flipped something in him. “holy smokes, b-baby,” Stan hissed. “you want that? want me to fill this little cunt up, huh?”

the only reaction was a loud gasp when he pushed in deep until the head of his cock pressed hard against your cervix again, that feeling you missed the most. then he placed his hand on your belly, where a soft bulge had started to form.

“look at that,” he said, mesmerized. “i can see it, see where i am inside you.” his palm pressed down just a little more. “this is where my kid’s gonna grow, right here. right fuckin’ here.”

there was no rhythm anymore, only that frenzied tempo of flesh slamming against flesh. each thrust was so deep and rough it no longer resembled sex so much as it did two animals fucking, returning to instinct. his mating press had long since turned feral, especially with your hips lifted so high.

somewhere beneath the sounds of skin meeting skin, breathy gasps, and the creak of the bed under his weight, Stan's voice broke again. “th-the cervix, feel it,” Stan groaned, not even addressing you directly, “right here. fuck, it’s open, pullin’ me in.”

and indeed, your womb did feel like it was clutching him. suctioned around the thick head of his cock, pulsing as though starving for seed.

his pelvis rolled again, changing the angle. this time, the base of his cock ground hard against your swollen folds, while the tip pushed right up against that slick, trembling ring inside. too deep. so deep your ribs ached. “fuck, baby, fuck, i feel you so deep. you wanna get knocked up so bad, don’t you? my good girl.”

words were impossible as your cries came out strangled and high-pitched. and when your hands clawed at his back, digging in like mad, your fingers tangled in his hair, sliding across sweat-slicked skin, Stanley moaned. loud.

“fuuuck,” he whimpered, yes, whimpered, hoarse and guttural, so loud you were sure birds flew from the trees and every animal near the shack scattered. “baby, your pussy’s so hot, ready for my cum— gonna fill it, fuck, she wants it”

his balls slapped wet and heavy against your ass, tight and full, desperate to unload. while your pussy clenched, opening every time the fat mushroom head of his cock knocked against your cervix, your body knew what was coming, and welcomed it.

“Sta-stan, please, breed me, do it, i’m ovulating, you could do it,” your words came out garbled, barely intelligible even to yourself. “put your baby in me— mark my womb, make it yours. impregnate me.“

“gonna make you a mommy, that's right. you ready to take all of it? every drop? holy fuck, want me to wreck that womb so bad it never forgets me?”

you blink up at him, tears collecting in your lashes before they spill over, tongue half out from how hard you're panting, your jaw’s gone slack from the pace.

“yes, baby, yes. . .you’re gonna cum? you close, baby? oh god, please— please, Stan, do it. it’s your birthday. it’s fa-father’s day. don’t you wanna be a dad tonight?” your pussy is so soaked it’s slurring wet sounds back at him with every thrust, a dirty squelch echoing beneath your cries. thick strings of his pre-cum are already dribbling inside, kissing the opening, teasing the inevitable, marking you inside first.

“so tight. hhngh, sweetheart, the fuck are you doing to me. . .”

“make me a mommy,” you finally exhaled, blinking through the haze. “do it. d’you hear me? make me a mommy, Stan. wanna get pregnant today. on your birthday. you— you should cum inside me. fill me up and keep going.”

“gonna knock you up,” he whimpered against your lips. “fuck you ‘til you’re leaking me. to the last drop”

the moment he spilled inside, it was so messy. the way he came was just. . . thick. the pressure built right behind your cervix, in warm surges, as his cock pushed once, then again, and then started to slowly leak.

Stanley slowed, only marginally, just enough to thrust deeper, harder, driving his hips into you, and a low growl tore from his chest. your limbs tangled around him like ivy, squeezing, clinging, trembling from the mixture of pain and pleasure only sex with that charming bastard could bring.

“fuck, love, that’s what you wanted, yeah? my good girl, takin’ it so well,” whatever composure he had left was long gone. the thought of breeding you, of really making you a mommy, had scrambled something inside his brain, fried it beyond repair.

your head barely managed a nod. words failed, mouth too slack with sensation to form anything coherent. the best you could do was choke out a breathless, slurred chorus of “yes yesyes yes thank you, Stan, thank you for your seed,” broken up by sobs as your hips jerked again and again, trying to ride the wave out.

he was still coming. still. god, he kept spilling in slow hot streams, seeping straight into your needy womb, the tip of his twitching cock pressed to your opening, marking you from the inside out. your body responded on it's own, wet walls fluttering around him in rhythm, coaxing every last drop with shameless intent. good. a dazed, blissed-out smile curved across your lips. good. it was right. you were made for this. your body knew what to do. good.

“sill feelin’ it,” Stan muttered low against your skin, voice disbelieving. “shit, doll, you’re milkin’ me dry, ughh.”

and even as you felt so dangerously full, stretched to the edge of capacity, your arms remained locked around his neck, thighs clamped tight in a futile attempt to trap all that warmth inside, to keep him rooted there for good.

“don’t pull out,” came the urgent plea. “don’t you fucking dare. just keep going. you’re not done. still hard. just— just use me.”

and that was it, Stanley obeyed, rolling his hips into you with that same fierce determination. deeper than deep as he wanted to fuck the thought of anyone else out of your head forever. your womb was already full, and he was still trying to give you more.

starting again, sudden and unrelenting, as if there hadn’t been your sobbing and shaking from being too full. maybe he didn’t hear it, or maybe he just chose not to. it was easier that way, instead of facing the reality of what it meant to stop. who would want to? especially when it's still hot and sticky inside, everything is throbbing from the recent orgasm, and he's still so deep there.

there's something special about Stan still being able to fuck you well, even after he's already finished. it’s simply not enough just to cum inside, no, it has to stay there, warm, heavy, pooling. that was always the point. and god, the sight of that milky ring at the base of his cock only confirmed how determined this man was to impregnate you.

but satisfaction still didn’t come. lips were too swollen to beg, but the slurred plea was still there, pulled straight from some desperate corner of the brain that hadn’t yet given up. “twins, Stan. . .y-yeah, breed me again. . . give me twins, want them to look like you, baby.” the words didn’t stop, even if they sounded more like crying than anything else, a gasping, vowel-heavy mess of wanting.

everything was so sweet it started to burn.

Stan's hands locked hard around your hips and dragged your whole body deeper into the mattress until movement from your side wasn’t even possible anymore. he handled everything, the body beneath him belonged entirely to him.

groaning at your tightness, Stanley also felt how the mess from before had started to leak down already, thick globes of his cum dripping down your thighs and pooling under your ass, too much. there was no containing it anymore.

“look at that,” he murmured, almost to himself, eyes locked on the mess between your thighs. “stuffed you so full it’s leaking out . . . and you’re still clenching like a greedy little thing.”

“y-your greedy girl. . . Stan, i can feel you so deep. right in my tummy, oh.”

oh, Stanley heard you, don't worry. proof of this was his strong arms locking tighter around your thighs, hairy chest crushing into yours as he folded you under him completely, pressed you into the bed without any pity, rutting his cock into a cunt that couldn’t take anymore, yet begged for more all the same.

“i’m gonna get you pregnant, princess. properly, gonna leave you glowing while i rot at sea with my damn brother, right? riiiightt, that's my girl. wanna be bred so bad. . . ill be out there with Ford, and you’ll be here, walking around with my babies, my girl. my sweet girl. shiiiit, need to see you pregnant. yeah. i’ll give you the twins. you deserve them.”

and that’s how it started. your sob came without warning. humiliating sound dragged from somewhere deep enough to hurt. it wasn’t from his roughness, even though that was there too, those things made you sob before. but this time, it wasn’t pleasure.

you didn’t want him to leave. you couldn’t do it again. not like last time. it was panic.

perhaps it was the way your hands wouldn’t stop shaking as they clung to his shoulders, or it was just your shallow fast breath, but whatever it was, Stanley felt it and stopped to look down, meeting your red eyes.

“what? hey, hey, hey,” a voice above you, his fingers coming up to your cheeks. your face is wet, he realizes, soaked. “what is it baby? did i hurt you?”

perhaps it’s humiliating, to be fucked like this, so deep and animalistic, and suddenly fall apart for a reason that has nothing to do with his cock. except, maybe, it does? maybe it has everything to do with how it’s been months. months of no voice. no scent. months of drifting sleep and fake smiles.

“cmon, what’s goin’ on, doll, huh? talk to me.”

you hiccup and cover your face with your forearm because you’re ashamed. it’s pathetic, you think, probably selfish too, but it spills anyway. “its stupid, but i just— fuck. i missed you. so much. and i don’t want you to go. dont leave again, please, Stanley. please don’t leave me again—“

oh, his face said, even before his mouth could form the words. oh. that’s what this is.

“baby, no, no. no, not going anywhere, not again. not without you.” Stanley kissed each tear as it came, warm mouth chasing the salt from your skin.

“promise me you won’t.”

“i promise,” he exhaled into your mouth. “i promise, honey.”

“thank you, thank you . . .oh gosh, don't stop fucking me. i love you s-so much”

somewhere between thrusts, the rhythm stops being his alone. what began as Stan fucking into you becomes a meeting halfway, your hips lifting off the bed, you start working for it. liquid hunger pooling behind your lower belly. pussy pulling him in deeper with each forward roll.

you don’t even feel human, desperate to draw him in again and again until every drop’s drained.

eyes wide, Stanley knows, placing one hand on your belly to feel the outline of his cock rocking against your insides, he watches how your pussy welcomes each brutal slide.

“that’s it,” he growls, thumb dipping to your throbbing clit, rubbing smooth circles just as you move again and take all of him in one shameless motion. “doin’ it yourself now, huh? needy little doll. wanna milk my balls empty?”

your answer comes in loud whimpers and cries. the way his pulsing cock glides through you now, brushing up against that aching, swollen mouth of your cervix with every push, turns language into noise.

“s’it feel good, sweetheart? this birthday cock hittin’ so deep it’s got you dumb, huh?”

you giggled softly and stupidly. there’s cotton where your thoughts used to be. a glazed little smile, lips kiss-bitten and parted, drool glimmering down your chin as you tried to nod and say something clever, although nothing came out but a dizzy laugh and a small, “so deep, Stan. . . ‘s so much”

“fuck. don’t say that,” Stan begged, giving you one more deep, mean thrust just for the wet sound of it. “don’t say that while i’m still inside, or i’ll knock you up again before this one’s even settled.”

your cunt clenched at the threat, involuntarily of course. it was like your body couldn’t help itself, not when the head of his cock kissed your cervix and stayed there. you could still feel his warm cum drooling against it, dripping right where it needs to be.

“‘s your birthday,” you sighed, feeling your clit twitching under the ghost of his thumb. “m’just just your present,” and with a sleepy drag of fingers down your belly, you added, “and it’s father’s day. guess i better give you a baby too. seems fair.”

“fuck, sugar, you even hear yourself?”

you nodded, stupid-happy, still smiling as Stanley laughed breathlessly above you too.

“oh, you’re gone, huh? all fucked dumb off your old man’s cock, sweet little gift box all wrapped up for me. mhmm”

you wrapped your arms tighter around his shoulders, curling around him, murmuring nonsense into his chest. “birthday boy deserves to feel my womb wrap around him. deserves to cum inside.” you babbled, slamming your hips down to meet his thrusts like it’s all you were born to do. “you said you would. . . said id get round. my belly’d get all tight with your twins, Stan, please, please— fill me again“

he would. oh, he’d fucking make sure of it. he’d fill you so deep they’d see it in the way you walked. no doubts. he’d breed this sweet hole until it forgot anything else.

his balls drew tight, a hard twitch against your skin, when you felt him finishing, a rush of thick, roping cum flooding past the gate of your womb until you swore you felt it bloom inside you.

you spasmed, pussy fluttering around him, greedily milking, clenching, trying to seal him in. the whole bed gave a tired creak, nearly drowned out by Stan’s guttural groan as he pumped one last wave into you, leaking back around the base.

his chest was damp against yours. cock still buried, twitching faintly inside while you both fought to breathe again. Stan shifted like he meant to move, maybe give you relief, but your thighs snapped shut around his hips, arms looping behind his waist, hands grabbing handfuls of his ass just to keep him there.

“don’t pull out,” your voice was sticky with sleep and bliss. “m’so full. it’s all warm in there.”

Stanley didn’t answer right away. instead, he gave a single slow roll of his hips, just one, and it was enough to wring another broken whimper from your poor throat. he stayed pressed right up against that sore, overfucked spot deep inside, and the pressure made your belly feel swollen, stretched, already struggling to hold everything he’d given you.

“feels like you poured twins in me,” you said, dreamy. “think ill swell up for real this time.”

he huffed a breath that was almost a laugh, but his hand was already on your stomach. “they’re gonna have your eyes. . .your nose, too. sweet little face just like yours. don’t argue.” a kiss to your cheek, featherlight. “that’s final.”

however, deep down, intuition told him they’d be the spitting image of him. stubborn little things. his blood always did run strong.

you smiled into the crook of his neck, tears prickling again as your overstimulated pussy gave another soft flutter around him. not ready to let go. not yet. not for hours. maybe not ever.

“happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” Stan chuckled against your skin. “now be a good girl and hold it in, huh?”