#and that can get a bit scary and overwhelming!!!

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

i love my friends so much. i feel like yesterday i had a lot of shit going on in my head and i woke up to my friend explaining things in a way that put my mind at ease. i dont feel as anxious anymore because i know i was overthinking. i think my dad said it best when he told me that he thought my wonderful brain of mine just wants to think problems are bigger than they actually are. he is right! im just inexperienced in life and half of the time im scared im doing something wrong but- HEY. i need to be more confident in making mistakes. making mistakes doesn't define me as a person!! i need to stop worrying about doing life right and just live for the sake of living and doing what makes me happy!!!!!!!

[swhhdr-wthhr]

i'm trying to get over my fear of spiders so i keep making new sanders sides aus where virgil is some kind of spider monster, so i have to look at pictures of spiders for reference to draw him. it actually has been a bit helpful. i'm also purposefully trying to make my designs for spider!virgil kinda cute but still somewhat realistic. so i think that helps me be able to look at spiders without thinking of them as scary

[calamitys-child]

My purpose and singular mission in life is to make sure queer and/or neurodivergent kids know that sometimes it really is their parents who are stupid and other adults are on their side. This, unfortunately, does not make me popular with their parents. Gonnae keep doing it though.

[thatonegaybrit]

; hey, slow down .. life isn't that short and it's actually kinda cool when you js look around for a bit

[smalltimidbean]

oh to have a fiend plush… i mean i can technically get one made by budsies (a plush making company) but you’re probably not comfortable with that. which is perfectly valid

i must confess i never thought i would admire them so much as i do lol (even if they slightly scare me /lh)

ah well i’ll continue to admire them from afar

Yeah, not only would I be very uncomfortable with that, it'd be incredibly disrespectful (and just plain weird) to take my personal character (or anyone's, really) and make a plush of them to keep for yourself - so, please do not do that

If I did theoretically have a project featuring Bean and Fiend, and it was popular enough for merch, Fiend plush would definitely be one of the first things to make, much to their chagrin hehe

Again, unlikely to happen, but thanks for liking Fiend so much!

(Also tangent, but if I had a nickel for every time someone really liked a more antagonistic spin-off of Bean, I would have at least two nickels, which is not a lot, but it is weird that it has happened at least twice… (reference))

[dagasinfilo]

so tired. took the last two of my current meds today (amounting to 36mg) since i wanted to Be Productive No Matter What today. which i mean, worked great! speedpainted a banner for ros new startplaying campaign (which came out pretty good) and sketched up a portrait of delenn babylonfive (which is also lookin pretty good) however i wanted to set stuff up to open commissions this week. what happened instead is category three mold in wardrobe event. and now i am fucking exhausted

at least i was able to Do Stuff I Am Content With effectively showing my brian i am, in fact, not useless

[webism]

pornstar!choso has a curated look that throws off a lot of his costars. strong build, straight-set face, hands made to choke and tear… most of those he film with don’t expect to be doted on the entire time.

people joke that pornstar!choso falls a little bit in love with every costar he fucks or gets fucked by. that glossy look that always pulls at his face by the time a scene ends, how his lip trembles with a need to be kissed raw when he cums. he says it's just the bliss of his orgasm—that he gets emotional in the moment, but it doesn't mean anything. well, until he meets you.

pornstar!choso who looks you up before his shoot because your name sounded vaguely familiar when it left his agents lips. he could have sworn you'd fucked before, because when he rolls the syllables of your name on his tongue they're nostalgic and taste like the sweat and laboured breaths of a long night between satin sheets. had you shot a scene together before? or had it been a one night stand?

pornstar!choso who realises that no, he hadn't slept with you before. but the familiarity of your name isn't a coincidence—he's fucked his fist to your videos more times than he can count. your name hits him like lightning, he had typed it into his search bar late in the night, cock hard and in need of instant relief. it's almost scary how well he knows you, what sounds you make when you get close to cumming, how you often arch your back and try to run from the overwhelming pleasure, how your eyebrows knit together when you're feeling so good it almost hurts.

pornstar!choso who realises with a now-red face that you probably don't have a clue who he is, and yet he's cum in time with you for months now. he's pretty sure he's drained his wallet at least twice on your cam shows... what if you recognise his name and piece it together with his username that he donates under? he debates cancelling the shoot, faking covid to get some time at home to hate himself endlessly.

but pornstar!choso realises that this is his chance to get to know how you really feel. he's imagined it so many times, as he fucked fake pussies or his closed fist using spit or his own cum as lube. you'd be warmer, undoubtedly tighter... so much prettier. and he wants to know more: would you prefer to take control and turn him into the toys he so often pretends are you? would you lay back all pretty and let him ruin you on his cock? how deep could you take him he knows he's big but you seem so eager, would you take him to the base with ease or would he have to force it in? bully your pretty pussy until it stretches to his shape?

pornstar!choso who hates the fact that your first, and possibly only, time together would be in front of a production crew and under the unsympathetic lights of a porn set. but he'd fuck on a stage in front of thousands if it means a taste of you.

pornstar!choso who makes it to the shoot before you do, comes ten minutes early to settle his anxieties and get a feel for the scene ahead. the director tells him its a simple shoot, that choso is meant to let you ride him for a while until you pull off and suck his cock for a nice close-up facial shot. the way the director speaks so clinically about sex with you makes choso grimace, he feels pathetic for feeling like this. like he'll be a changed man after feeling you around his cock, which is already painfully hard.

pornstar!choso who hates himself for stumbling over his words when he meets you. he wishes he had never looked you up, though he doesn't doubt seeing your pretty face like this would have wrecked his confidence regardless. you're kind, greet him with a shy smile as if he isn't about to slip balls deep inside of you.

pornstar!choso who, once he has you sitting on top of him on that bed—cameras pointed dutifully as you start to play your role and hike your skirt up so you can sink down on his cock—he can't handle the thought of fucking you like it's nothing, like it's not been the crux of his fantasies in the dark hours at night.

pornstar!choso who, probably to the detriment of his career, pushes you backwards onto the bed and connects his lips to yours in a kiss that surpasses every single fantasy he's had in his mind. you taste good, and he wants more. he speaks against your lips, asks whines a question that makes your stomach coil. 'can i eat you out first? please?'

pornstar!choso who is chided by the production team as he gets his head under your skirt and laps at your pussy in the most desperate act of need he thinks he's ever displayed. those that claim he falls in love with each shoot would be wholly correct in this case: he is in love with the taste of you, with the way your legs trap him in and ask for more. he could eat you for hours, run his tongue from your clit to dip it inside of you in reverence of the goddess he believes you to be. and you laugh at the absurdity of his hunger, at the courage it takes to run off script, and the pure need in which he eats you out.

pornstar!choso who only stops once the director threatens to cut the scene entirely. his cock hurts with how hard it is though, and he thinks the redirection of blood has made him lightheaded, because when he's made to sit back and let you sink down onto his length he swears he meets god.

pornstar!choso who can't help his whines as you ride him, an addiction already laying down roots in his brain. he has to try and think of anything less godly than you to hold on to his orgasm though, because the combination of your body and having subconsciously trained himself to associate you with climaxing is all too strong, and he's a hairs breadth away from cumming prematurely and ruining the scene.

pornstar!choso who realises as you continue, however, that your moans arent the same as he's heard them before, though the speakers of his phone. you're more breathy with him, your moans are less honeyed, more raw—as if coming from your chest rather than your throat. he wonders for a moment if he's not good enough, if you're having to fake your pleasure to save face for the cameras. but you're soaked, and even above the sounds of your shared pleasure he can still hear the squelch of his cock rutting in and out of you.

but before pornstar!choso can question himself further, your eyes are widening and you're latching a hand onto his throat as your pace increases. he can feel the way you tighten impossibly around him, the way your hips stutter and your pupils blow out with lust—you're cumming. and of course he remembers his instructions, to let you climb off of him and take his load over your face... but you're not climbing off of him.

pornstar!choso who understands the pointed look you manage to give him, that it's your turn to bypass the scene direction. you want to be greedy, to feel him finish inside of you, even through the confines of a condom. your moans arent fake, they're the first real ones you've let sound on a porn set—and choso is pulling them from your lungs like a choir's conductor.

pornstar!choso who can't last a minute longer, now with the way you lean in and coax him to climax with your voice, the soft praise that leaves your lips is an aphrodisiac and all too powerful. he sees stars when he cums, full blown galaxies too complex to imagine. call it an out-of-body experience or not, but choso is lost in his orgasm for long enough to warrant you bringing him back down with a soft kiss to his lips. he looks sinful: his hairs come loose, messy and stuck to his forehead. his eyes, though, are what's going to be the subject of a few screenshots taken by his fans: he looks totally infatuated.

pornstar!choso who, after taking a few minutes to settle himself after the shoot, watches as you walk over to him, a very pretty smile pulling at the corner of your lips before you lean down and peck his lips goodbye. he assumes it's the last he'll see of you, that there's no way he's worthy of every tasting you again. that night, he's scared to brush his teeth, to lose the way you linger on his tongue.

pornstar!choso who debates fucking his fist to the memory of you in bed that night. he thinks you've ruined masturbation for him, or sex in general: nothing could quite be the same. and as if its a sign from god that he's done enough good in his life to deserve some positive karma, his phone dings.

a photo of you, a pretty vibrator laid over your stomach. your laptop open in the background, his porn playing on the screen.

attached, a message that makes the poor boy cum in his pyjama bottoms. 'lets meet up again. i want to tie you up and film how stupid you get with a vibe strapped to your cock—a movie just for us, though. no audience.'

pt 2 in the works :p

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 did we marry him? | amphoreus men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; yes, you did. what happens when amphoreus men meet your younger self :)?

love mail — lalaaaa quick prompt!! slow buildup till i can write back to normal again ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ

anaxagoras can't help but find your younger self the cutest little thing. you watch as he squishes and pulls at mini-you's face, hearing him chuckle at how they whine and squirm. "so you've always hated it, noted."

even if mini-you tries to hide it, they're relishing in the attention. it wasn't often that they were treated in a way that was so.. full of care, even if it was teasing. all of a sudden, they turned their attention to you. "hey, did we ever end up marrying him?"

"...who?" the question made you confused, there weren't many candidates for a crush during your youth.

"the kind boy we met in the town!" oh, wait.

your actual husbands interest is piqued. "can you describe him to us, dove?"

his smile turns just a little bit wider at the sound of you groaning behind him. "he has green hair! the most prettiest eyes and— hey, you and him are kind of alike, mister!"

"oh, really?" the most tender kiss is pressed on your mini-me's forehead. "then i'm honored to tell you that you sure did."

mydei's been having the best day of his life. currently, he's been carrying mini-you on his shoulders and ran around a field. all while while you watched nearby, smiling at the sight. when your fiancé returns, the reason for all of your embarrassing childhood memories runs up to you excitedly. "i've been wanting to ask, did we end up marrying him?"

the man you were quite literally about to be wed to, raises a brow at the question. "who could it be, sweetpea?"

"the boy i saw walk out of the river! he was kind of scary looking.. but he was super cool! there were these cool red lines all over him, kind of like this guy!"

the irony of pointing right at mydei is a little funny. and your husband can't help himself from the biggest smile you've ever seen from him. "oh, really? just like me? tell me what else you think abo— ouch!"

the elbow to his stomach was not unwarranted, but you smile at your younger self and pat their head. "yeah, we unfortunately will. but if i were you, run the other way when he starts approach—"

mydei's strong arms were then wrapped around you, lifting you into the air, then followed by a peal of laughter. "hey, don't start trying to get away from me now! you're all mine, even from day one!"

phainon is just in awe. mini-you seemed so shy, hiding behind you as they hold your hand, peeking at him with a nervous look. "i can barely believe it! you, were a shy kid?" he laughs, crouching down to their level as you sigh. "more or less. crowds were overwhelming, and aeon's forbid you throw a kid in a classroom of despair and agony." "you describe kindergarden like it's purgatory..."

though while your boyfriend is sent on a mission (buy icecream), your attention is brought to mini-you. "phainon's gone now. just can't believe it's him, hm?"

the reason for their shyness wasn't entirely because there was a 'stranger' infront of them, rather it was because the boy from the other class was now taller and much—much more handsome. "wow.. and you and him get together? that's so cool! but.. did we ever end up marrying him? like i hoped?"

and when phainon comes back with the biggest smile on his face, totally failing to hide probably one of the biggest cups of icecream behind him, you only laugh at the question. "soon. he just has to ask, and i'd say yes in a heartbeat."

that thought is further solidified, as phainon tries his best to seem friendly to your little self. just as he was when you two were kids, winning your heart all over again.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[sacrificiallane]

smut ﹙ too sweet ❞ Percy Jackson

cw ! heavy makeout / dry humping / allusion to giving head / very sweet !

"I love you ," kiss, "love you ," kiss, "gods ―"

Percy Jackson speaks pretty nonsense when your plush lips trail further and further down his body. He swears this is his Elysium ― pushed into his sea themed sheets and getting utterly loved by you.

"So, so good to me, pretty girl ." And you live by his constant praise.

Only in his blue boxers he's literal putty under your teasing hands, as your mouth trails a path over each of his freckles, seemingly forming constellations with just your sweet mouth on him.

It's muscle memory when his hips lift off the bed, trying to get even more friction from how easily your making out had turned into... this.

Your lips easily find the rough patch of his happy trail, and Percy stutters a little in his breathing. He is closing his eyes in anticipation, his fingers already finding space in your hair.... and then ―

― and then your mouth quickly moves back up, almost as if you're rushing to get back into familiar territory. It's the only indication he needs, to know that you're not just merely trying to tease him.

His sea green eyes slowly flutter open again, and Percy tries to find his thoughts somewhere that isn't tugged under his waistband.

His voice is all hazy when his eyes connect with yours again.

"You scared to go lower ?"

And his question was so genuine ― you wanted to cry. He wasn't being pushy, and nothing in his tone suggested that he was disappointed or upset. No, your boyfriend was genuinely checking in with you, to see if you were okay with all this.

He then found your gaze turn a bit sheepish, almost... shy, as you slowly nodded your pretty head at him. "Uhm, yea," he heard you whisper, and a flush overtook your features, "it's scary down there. I don't know what to do with... all that ."

Oh. Oh !

Percy can't even stop himself from snorting a bit at your answer. Leave it to his partner, to describe his most sensitive part as 'scary'. He finds it all too sweet, too!

Of course, there was barely anything you could do 'wrong' with it, in his mind, anyway. But Percy is the last person to push you into something you aren't completely comfortable with.

The guy would happily just let you kiss him silly, if that's all you're comfy with!

"Sweetheart," his gaze softens at your admission, and his thumb softly brushes over your cheek, just to see you look less worried about his reaction. "That's totally fine," he hums, and watches you closely, "we can try some other time. Or we can never try again. Whatever you'd like. I'm happy when you’re happy, honestly."

But it's the way you tell him that you totally don't want to stop this completely ! You have urges too, after all. So Percy finds himself greedily licking into your mouth, until further thoughts just melt away. He's quick to flip the both of you over, hovering above you, all while making pretty little sounds of pleasure that mingle with your own.

His body molds perfectly against your own, and a roll of his hips is enough to leave you dumb. Your lips are all shiny and swollen when he's done with devouring your face, and a lopsided smile splits over his lips that make your tummy flutter. He's on you before you can even take a moment to breathe, already thrusting ― gentle, slow ― against your clothed most sensitive part.

You're so overwhelmed by his sheer gentleness, that your own hips desperately buckle against his ! And Percy can only watch in awe as your legs open wider for him, as to beckon him even closer.

He doesn’t need you to suck his dick! No, Percy prefers you just like this … sprawled open and eager for him to take care of you.

Your hand seeking out his own, is enough to have his own stomach flutter. He is quick to interlock his fingers with yours, pressing them into the mattress right beside your head and keeping them there ...

And Percy is almost embarrassed at how much he is really leaking through his boxers. It creates a wet squelching patch right where his tip keeps rubbing into your clit, and the mere sight of such has him less embarrassed and even more eager to make you both feel good.

His eyes quickly find yours again, knowing that you need just a bit more coaxing to really find your peak like this. "It's okay pretty girl," the son of Poseidon coos gently, closely watching your facial expression. He knows you're close.

You swallow thickly, not able to look anywhere else but him. His muscles move with his trusting, making you all dizzy with how much you love him ! How good he makes you feel, too. "Perce ―" your breath hitches when your walls flutter around nothing. You're so, so close, yet not quite there yet ...

"I know, I know." Your little whine makes his hand tighten around your own, has his hips grind harder against your clothes pussy, because he is right there with you !

When his hand comes down to press and rub over the fabric of where your sweet clit is hidden underneath, is when you find yourself finally falling apart ...

𓂃 🖊 more .

[moonstruckme]

Different person— but is it overdoing it if I request a bad car accident but with an established relationship EMT marauders 👀

Yes definitely absolutely but I'll allow it (I did have to try and make it a little different though) <3

cw: scary car wreck aftermath, blood, concussion, angst

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

By the time the ambulance arrives, you’re already in hysterics. They only get worse when you see who steps out. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come out on a guttural sob, snot and tears and blood all mixed together on your face. “He was—I distracted him, and—” 

“Shh, shh.” Remus comes to you while Sirius rounds the car. He puts his hands on your jaw. “You’re alright. Don’t move.” 

“I made him look away—” 

“Stop moving, love.” His hands are still, grip firm, eyes moving quickly to scan you over. “I need you to focus.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“What hurts?” 

“But James—” 

“Sweetheart, please. Please.” Remus’ voice scrapes a little, and through your panic you register the wetness of his eyes. He’s terrified. “Sirius is with him, okay? We’re doing all we can, but I need to be sure you’re okay. Please let me do this.” 

Another sob collapses through your ribcage, but you choke out, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Remus takes a breath. His fingers shift slightly on your cheek; perhaps only adjusting his grip, but it feels like a caress. To your right, you can hear Sirius’ voice but not James’. “Focus on me. What hurts?” 

“Um…my shoulder.” You haven’t given it much notice, honestly, all your worry since the crash only for your boyfriend unconscious at the wheel, but when you take a moment to think it’s obvious. Your arm is screaming. “And my head, but less.” 

Remus nods, all business as he uses one set of fingers to feel the back of your neck, moving down your spine. “Any pain here?” 

“No?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “Sorry, I’m sure.” 

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart.” He spares you a brief kiss. The stiff upper lip you’d been attempting to form quivers underneath his gentle touch. “Do you feel sick at all?” 

“Yeah,” you admit, though you think that’s more from anxiety than anything else. 

Remus seems to understand. He pulls a pen light from his pocket, clicking it on. “Look here for me.” 

You have every intention of doing as he says, truly, but it’s at that moment that you hear Sirius say thickly, “There he is. Hi, baby.” 

Later, you might think it’s sort of funny—baby. It’s unlike Sirius to call James that, and unlike James to be called it. But perhaps Sirius is only feeling very overwhelmed by tenderness and relief; that, you could certainly understand. 

You turn in your seat, the pain in your left side temporarily vanishing. You only want to see James with his eyes open, but if you have your choice he’ll be awake and talking, normal, totally unhurt, a miracle. “James?” 

“Y/n,” Remus chides, but there’s relief in his voice, too, his gaze looking past you. 

“Sorry, I—Jamie.” Your voice breaks. You’re sobbing again all at once, reaching for your boyfriend as he blinks slowly, his lovely face all pinched in discomfort. “James.” 

You’re arrested from both ends, Remus catching your wrist and Sirius halting you with a stern look. It softens after a moment, that instinctive protectiveness giving way to something gentler. He almost looks sorry.

“Don’t touch him,” he tells you, firm though not unkind. “We can’t move him until we rule out spinal injury. Listen to Remus, angel, let us do our job.” 

You lower your hand, chastened, but are unable to tear your gaze away from James. He looks confused. There’s the smallest bit of blood collected under his nostrils. 

He seems to find words slowly. “Pads?” 

“Hello, gorgeous boy.” Sirius smiles at him, holding his neck and jaw as Remus had done for you. “Funny seeing you here.” 

Remus says your name again. Only when he cups your cheek, manually turning you towards him, do you finally look away. Your boyfriend is watching you with a tender expression. 

“He’s okay.” He thumbs underneath your eye, collecting blood and tears on the latex of his glove. “We’re okay, yeah?” 

“I distracted him,” you whisper, throat tight. “He swerved too late because he was looking at me.” 

“Well,” Sirius, who has evidently overheard, chimes in with a suave tone, “who among us could be faulted for that, eh?” 

A laugh, soft and half broken, stutters out of Remus. “Very true,” he says. “Can you look here for me now, please?” 

You let him go through his tests, which eventually find you well enough to be moved from the car. Your boyfriends work as a pair to get first James and then you onto stretchers. By then another ambulance has arrived and, neither Sirius nor Remus wanting to leave you or James and each seemingly having grown slightly jealous of the other, they swap off; Remus hops into the ambulance with James and another paramedic, and Sirius goes with you. 

You see this as your chance to get some real, unfiltered intel. Sirius can always be relied upon to tell things as they are. 

“Is Remus—are we going to the same place?” you ask as he locks your gurney into place inside the ambulance, knocking on the window to let the paramedic driving know once it’s secure. 

“Oh, yeah. Of course, you thought we’d let you end up in different hospitals?” Sirius turns your head gently with his hand, wiping with something cool above your eyebrow. It stings. “We want you both where we can keep an eye on you.” 

Your fear worsens. “Why?”

Sirius glances at your eyes, his expression softening. He brushes a gloved forefinger over your forehead consolingly. “Not because we think anything bad is going to happen to either of you, sweetness. Just for the same reasons as always; because we like to.”  

“How bad is it, though?” 

“Could certainly be worse,” he says. “You have a relatively mild concussion, and your shoulder—”

“With James,” you clarify quickly. 

“Oh.” Sirius blinks. His brows draw together, not condemning but sympathetic. “His concussion is a bit worse than yours,” he says, as frank as you’d been counting on from him. “He’s in and out, rather confused, but mostly unhurt besides that. Honestly, that first blow to his head might have saved him a lot of damage. Sometimes, when people go limp during a crash, they…hey. Hey, baby.” 

You shut your eyes, powerless to stop the silent sobs that shake your middle. Sirius wipes gently underneath your eyes. 

“That’s enough of that,” he murmurs. “We’re fine. We’re all fine.” 

“He’s hurt because I—because he turned—” 

“I heard you before,” Sirius quiets you. “You couldn’t control that, lovely.” 

You can feel your hairline growing damp with tears. Your voice is a scratchy, shamed thing. “I’m just so sorry.” 

“I know.” Your boyfriend presses a piece of gauze to the cut on your forehead, his gaze unflinching. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, though. You really don’t. Anyone can blame themselves, but the truth is you might’ve gotten hit no matter what. There’s no sense in thinking like that.” 

Sirius pauses, looking for understanding in your face. You press your lips together in attempt to stop crying. 

“I need you to focus on getting better,” he says. “Can you do that for me? I can’t hug you properly so long as your shoulder’s dislocated, and I think we could both use a hug right now, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you whimper. 

Sirius offers you a small smile, taping the gauze over your cut. “Good. So you’ve got your job, then, yeah?”

“I’ll try.” 

“You’re going to be so great at it, sweetness. I have absolute faith in you.” 

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, Reader POV.

His name is Simon.  

He’s still stuck in your mind as Captain Riley, like it’s dug in there, claws unwilling to let go, and he says you don’t have to call him Simon if you don’t want to. Which is comforting, in its own strange way. 

Comforting just like his presence, the one that’s been at the bakery almost every day. You’ve been trying to keep to yourself, agonizing over the moment when it all comes crashing down, when he figures out how weird you are, but it’s not that easy.

He doesn’t let you hide. 

“What do you do when you’re not at work?” You resist the urge to wring your hands together, keeping your focus on the sidewalk, concentrating on the cracks, the leaves. 

You’re on a walk. With him. He asked you earlier when he came by as you were closing up, before you moved on to the rest of your work. 

“Take a break. Walk with me.” 

You couldn’t say no, though it took longer than it should have to get your “yes” out. 

He didn’t rush you. He never does. 

“Um,” You’re not much of a doer. You bake, you go home, you read, you watch the occasional tv show or movie, you work on recipes. You learned to embroider last year, and sometimes you add little flowers or such here and there to your work aprons but there’s nothing outside those things, no extracurriculars or exercise, no circle of friends to get a drink with on the weekends. Sometimes you hang out with Mara, who works the front at the bakery, but it’s rare. You’re not good with friendships usually. You keep to yourself, and that’s fine. Everything is easier that way. 

You guess Captain Riley could be considered a hobby. All the minutes you’ve spent holding your breath and watching the front door, waiting for him to walk through and make his way to the counter, all the times you’ve caught yourself staring at his hands, thick wrists and palms the size of dinner plates. He could probably crush a skull between them, crush you. It’s unhealthy, the way you think of him. The way you daydream about a man who’s probably old enough to be your father. The way you close your eyes in the middle of the day when it’s busy and you’re overwhelmed and the sound of the dishwasher is grating on you, just to picture his face, hear him calling you baby, feel his-

He says your name. Oh right. 

You shrug, trying to feign indifference, trying to brush it off. “I’m usually at home. Work takes it out of me.” That’s true. Work can be exhausting. Bending, scraping, kneading, lifting giant mixing bowls, pulling dough until you’re tired. Wrists, elbows, neck, all of them, ache. Price you pay for passion, you suppose. “I’m pretty boring.” 

“No you’re not. Just a bit nervous, yeah?” Your stomach twists. 

“I like to stick to the things I know, I guess.” 

“Less scary?” The truth is full of shame and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to raise a shield that doesn’t exist. A smoke and mirror act that wouldn’t fool anyone. 

“Yeah, less scary.” He’s silent for a beat, and then turns to face you on the sidewalk, a finger under your chin, tipping your head back until your eyes are locked on his. 

“It’s okay, y’know?” Embarrassment floods, fire burning in your cheeks, and he tsks, wiping one of the tears trying to trickle down your skin. “None o’ that.” You smile, but it’s hollow. 

“Sorry.” 

“None of that either,” he bites out, and your spine straightens like a string has been pulled from your tailbone up through your neck. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.” With what? With you? He’s joking. You almost snort, but the seriousness in his gaze stops you short. Steals your breath. 

You’ve made it around the block already, standing in the parking lot of the bakery, twilight purple and orange shining in the reflection of the big front window. Disappointment settles in your stomach like lead. He’s going to leave now, go back to wherever it is he goes, and you’ll be alone, elbows deep in cream and sugar, trying not to think about him for the hundredth, thousandth time. 

Might as well rip the band-aid off. “Well, um. Thanks f-for, uh…” if you say thanks for the walk, will you sound dumb? Does that make it sound like you’re a dog or something he took for a stroll? “The walk.” Yep. Dumb. 

“Goin’ back to work?” 

“Mhm. I’ve got this catering order for early pick up tomorrow.” 

“What’re you making?” 

“Meringue. Lemon. Pies.” You cringe, but he places a hand on your shoulder. It’s warm, warm like a blanket, a soft fuzzy thing you can curl up with in front of a fire. “Meringue is really the thing about the pies. The rest of it doesn’t really matter, that’s why I- ah… why I put it first.” The two of you drift towards the back door, more so you in his wake, and when he closes it behind the two of you, it’s natural, you don’t even question it. Him. 

“It’s science.” You place the bowl in front of where he’s sitting on a stool, and try not to look at the bulk of his thighs. He’s in some sort of uniform, but it’s more casual, less stiff. The fabric breathes and stretches across his body, his chest, his middle… the heaviness of his legs. The room is suddenly very hot, and you try to shake the distraction off. “All of baking is a science, actually. Cooking, you can salvage anything. Cooking is easy. Baking? Baking is chemistry.” You pull the cradle of eggs over, and roll one in your hand before cracking it, separating yolk from white. “Meringue is a perfect example. It only has four ingredients. How hard can it be?” You feel a little thrill roll through you, the kind of excitement you get when you’re just about to start turning a handful of ingredients into something, and the pressure builds up in your chest, muscles in your arms and neck going tight as you fight against an overzealous outburst. You tense so hard you shake for a second before you get a hold of yourself. “If the eggs aren’t the right temperature, if the bowl isn’t clean enough, if you add the sugar too fast, it all falls apart. The protein in the egg whites mix with the sugar and make the meringue stable, it's literally chemistry. That's the cool thing about it.” You look between him and the hand mixer, and everything dries up. You’re suddenly very aware you’ve been prattling on about how to make meringue like he cares, and you have to hold onto the edge of the butcher’s block to practically keep yourself up. The mortification is enormous and threatens to drown you in its viciousness, vile things playing on a loop inside your head as you grapple with what’s just happened. Stupid. 

He’s standing before you can blink. “What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing, I- I just uh… I’m sorry.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“For what?” You shake your head, but he doesn’t let it go, just comes around to the side and covers your hand with his. Warm again. Safe. “Tell me what’s wrong sweetheart.” The gentle coax in his voice turns stern, and you find yourself obeying before you can stop it. 

“Meringue, it’s so… w-why would you care about meringue?” 

“I don’t know anything about meringue,” he rubs two knuckles against the apple of your cheek, “you were teaching me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Y’know you go somewhere else when you talk about baking?” 

“What? I do?” He nods. 

“You’re free from the scary bits. You’re excited and… weightless. It’s precious,” he cups your face, touch slow and careful, “like you, precious little girl.” The air in the room has vanished, and your knees go weak, struggling to support you as your pulse races, butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. 

“C-captain Riley- I-” He steps back, your heart free falls to the floor. He’s studying you like there’s a riddle to be solved, analytical and hungry, something razor sharp and rolling with darkness lurking behind it all. It’s so intense, too intense, but fleeting, and vanishes within a second. A light’s been snuffed out, leaving you in the cold and clueless. 

“Will you teach me the rest?” 

“Um, yes?” It doesn’t sound like the human language. More like a mouse’s squeak, and you glance around, trying to get your bearings as he leans against the table with his arms crossed. 

It takes you a minute, or ten, to get back in the rhythm. You have to start over, which is fine, but you’re shivering a bit too much to handle the yolk separation, a different kind of anxiety rattling in your bones. It’s not until he palms the small of your back and tells you to take your time, that you settle and succeed. 

By the time it’s over, you’ve made ten pies for your order and one extra. 

“Do you want to try?” You hand him a fork. 

“Course.” You’re on the edge of your seat as he takes his first bite, watching his jaw move, his throat bobbing with each swallow. Then he takes another, and another, and another until half the pie is almost gone. You try to smother your giggle, but the effort is paltry, and he smiles at you in return. “Somethin’ funny?” Your teeth press into your bottom lip so hard it stings. 

“Nope, uh… do you like it?” 

“It’s delicious sweetheart. You’re really good at this.” Tingles of pride flush through you from fingers to toes, and you bounce on the balls of your feet a little bit. 

“I’ll send the rest home with you.” You slide the pie tin into a box and he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to!” You blurt, and then bite your tongue, looking down at peaks of meringue. “I w-want to, it’s my-” you snap ‘love language’ back before it manages to escape, horrified at yourself. “I like it, feeding you, um, feeding people.” You’re sweating. You can feel it starting to bead along your spine, the back of your neck, and you wonder if you’ll get hot enough to melt into the floor and disappear. 

“If you’re sure,” he murmurs as he forks another piece of the pie free. “You didn’t have any though.” 

“Oh,” it’s your factory setting response at this point. Oh. Can’t you think of anything else? “Th-that’s okay, I don’t always eat my own… stuff.” 

“Why’s that?” You’ve turned fully towards him now, and he’s still so close, close enough to see the ribbons of caramel in his irises. 

“It’s not for me, usually. I mean, I eat of course, and taste test, but I don’t do it for me. I do it as a job and for other people.” 

“Hmm. That’s a shame,” the bite is still sitting there, waiting, and you’re just about to ask him if he’s going to eat it when he lifts it to your lips. “Open.” 

It’s not a request. It’s an order, a directive, and your thighs squeeze into one another, riptide of confusing want, desire, dragging you out to sea. 

Your lips part- 

and then Captain Riley is feeding you. It’s a small bite, tart-sweet on your tongue. Lemon and sugar crusted clouds linger as you swallow, but nothing matters except for the man in front of you, pulling a fork from your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours- 

“Good girl.” Heaven. Hell. Words disappear like you never learned a single vowel. Your body becomes a never ending live wire. You’re out of your element, you don’t even have an element, not truly. Your element is here, in kitchen of the bakery, alone with flour and sugar and piping bags. Your element isn’t… it’s not this. Not this man, this older man, this brutally handsome man who towers over you, this man with his perfectly imperfect nose and scar on his cheek, with big hands and a voice you could drown in. Not this man standing in front of you, telling you you’re a good girl, staring like he wants to consume you. “How’s that?” 

“U-uh, um. It’s… it’s good.” You don’t recognize your voice. It’s high pitched and trembling, the waver it in matching the shaking of your limbs, your entire body. 

“Do you want another?” Yes. No. You don’t know. 

“I…” you’re flailing, but he instead of pushing you, instead of trying to fit a circle into a square, he merely thumbs your cheek, drags the calloused pad down to ghost across your bottom lip.  

“It’s okay baby, take your time. Do you want another bite?” There’s a hummingbird in your chest, trilling a million miles a minute, and you nod automatically. 

“Please.” You whisper, and he obliges. You don’t care to have another bite of pie, but you do want more of this. So much more of something you’re not sure you can have, something you definitely don’t understand. Some sort of dream that doesn’t happen for people like you. 

Your phone vibrates. It lights up on the other side of the table and your stomach pitches, first out of panic, and then out of dread. 

Spell broken. Fairytale over. 

“That’s my bedtime. My bedtime reminder, I mean.” You just told him you have a bedtime like you’re five. Nice. “I’m usually in bed… by now. I get up really early on some days for prep and other stuff, and I’m a ten hours of sleep a night kind of girl, so, uh, I try to stay consistent with my routines and stuff, but I’m pretty bad at it. That’s why I have the alarm…” Stop talking. 

“I’m sorry I kept you.” 

“No!” You reach for him and then think better of it, fisting your hand at your side instead. “N-no, I’m glad you’re here. I just have this early pick up tomorrow, but it’s no big deal, I’ll-” 

“go home and go to bed. Do you have anything else you need to do?” Stern again, like he's serious about enforcing your bedtime, like he cares about you getting enough sleep. 

“Not really, I just leave the dishes in the sink for tomorrow.” He tucks the pie box into his arm and motions to the back door. 

“I’ll wait for you to lock up.” 

He gives you his number and makes you promise to text him when you get home, which you do, dutifully, laying in bed, curled up beneath your blankets, typing out a hazy message with one eye open. 

>Home. In bed. Thanks for hanging out. 

The text back comes only a few minutes later. 

>Goodnight sweetheart. 

>Goodnight Captain Riley. 

[marsdql]

Can you do jake babying reader version pleasee

I’m so embarrassed of this one. hi. If someone tells me “how old is the reader tf” ure getting blocked cuz if someone can eat booty then I can let my myself get babied with my bf ok thank u byebye

Jake x reader — what you crying for?

You don’t even know how it happened.

One second you were straightening up the coffee table, trying to make the apartment look just a little nicer before Jake got back from practice — and the next, his notebook was just… gone.

The little black one. The one with worn edges and tiny doodles on the cover. The one he always carried but never let anyone read.

You didn’t mean to move it. Just nudged it to dust under it. And thenit was gone.

You checked the couch cushions.

The bookshelf.

The kitchen.

The bathroom, even though you knew you hadn’t gone in there with it.

And by the time Jake opens the door, you’re curled up on the floor in the corner of the living room like a kicked puppy, knees hugged to your chest, hands wringing the hem of your hoodie.

“Baby?” his voice is light, casual, until he sees your face.

You look up and your bottom lip is already trembling. Your throat feels tight. Your vision’s blurry.

“I—I lost your notebook…”

Jake freezes, just inside the door. “My… the lyrics one?”

You nod fast, tears already spilling.

“I didn’t mean to—I was just—cleaning—and now I can’t find it and I didn’t open it, I promise I didn’t, and I looked everywhere, and I’m so stupid—”

Your voice breaks hard and you start sobbing — real, wet, gasping cries that shake your whole body. You bury your face in your hands, humiliated, terrified, overwhelmed.

And Jake… he just stares for a second.

And then he lets out a long breath and walks over, squatting down right in front of you.

His voice goes soft. But it’s still stern. Still has that tone that makes your stomach twist like you’re being scolded — not because he’s angry, but because he’s disappointed you thought he would be.

“Baby.”

You flinch a little.

“Hey,” he says again, quieter, tilting his head. “Look at me.”

You peek up at him, lip wobbling harder now that he’s so close.

Jake cups your face in both hands, thumbs brushing your tear-slick cheeks. His voice lowers and goes real gentle. Soft, but firm.

“Why,” he says slowly, “are you cryin’ like I hit you?”

You hiccup, shoulders trembling. “I—I just—”

“No, no,” he cuts in gently, “you listen to me. Did I yell at you?”

You shake your head.

“Did I even look mad at you?”

You sniffle. “No…”

“Then what the heck are you cryin’ like that for, huh?” His tone goes even softer, but tighter too — like he’s trying not to scold too much. “What, baby, you think I’m scary?”

Your eyes fill again and you nod the tiniest bit before crumbling into his chest.

Jake exhales slowly, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You poor little thing.”

You sob harder, clinging to him like a child, so overwhelmed it hurts.

He rocks you gently, stroking your hair, whispering into it like a lullaby.

“Lost a lil notebook and now you’re actin’ like you’re gonna be punished,” he says softly. “What do you think I am, huh? Your boyfriend or your executioner?”

You sniffle into his hoodie. “I didn’t mean to break anything…”

“You didn’t break anything,” he replies calmly. “You didn’t do anything. ‘Cept cry all over the place like a kicked puppy.”

Your face burns and you try to apologize again, but Jake tightens his arms around you.

“No ‘sorry,’” he murmurs. “Not when I didn’t ask for one.”

You go quiet.

He pulls back just enough to look at your face, still wet with tears. He frowns — but it’s more sad than angry.

“Baby,” he says again, voice all slow and syrupy, “do you cry like this every time you think someone’s gonna be mad?”

You nod slowly, lip still trembling.

Jake sighs through his nose.

“Oh, angel… that’s not okay,” he says, tucking your head under his chin. “I’m gonna have to love you extra til you unlearn that, huh?”

You nod again, this time more like a child being comforted.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I know. We’ll fix it.”

Then, quieter: “You’re not too much. You’re just too scared.”

You cry again but it’s softer this time. Like relief.

He holds you through it all, gently rocking, and whispering over and over:

“You’re okay. I got you. I’m right here.”

[bunny-jpeg]

bunny heat

simon "ghost" riley

tags: smut/pwp, hybrid au, bunny!simon, wolf!reader, size difference/kink, breeding kink, mating press, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy & babies

a/n: i am rekindling my affection for call of duty fan fiction by making self indulgent nonsense - enjoy

the common assumption was that bunny hybrids were small and fragile. with blunt teeth and long bunny ears. they were meant to be dressed up and adored. they were sweet little things, harmless. prey.

the other assumption was that wolf hybrids were large and imposing. if folklore were correct, they were near feral with large teeth and pointed ears. the possessed great physical power and could overtake anything that got in their way. predator.

your wolf-like ears twitched as you tried to grab the box of cereal off the shelf. you tried to get up on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf. but to no avail you could get it. you huffed with your hands at your hips and turned to your mate, almost a foot taller that you. you said sweetly, "bun-bun, can you get that for me?"

the imposing blond with the rabbit ears and medical mask on, turned away from the other shelf to help you. one large hand on your hip while he easily plucked the box from the shelf and handed it to you, "glad ya didn't scale the shelves like last time." and he reached to you to rub the top of your head lovingly.

common assumption were rarely right.

your eye glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. you finished buttering the toast and then slid the two fried eggs on the plate. already on it was some vegetarian bacon and sausage. with everything on the plate, you headed towards the attic to find simon.

the worst part about spring wasn't snow that melted to slush or the allergies. it was simon's breeding season. poor guy, while he was in the military he was given shots to keep it at bay. but once he retired it felt like it hit two-fold after years of suppression.

"simon." you cooed as you went up the stairs. the smell was overwhelming when you got into the attic. it smelt like heavy bonfire except without all the smoke. regardless you still squinted as if there was smoke in your eyes. you brought the food to him and found him laid out in his nest.

he was in a white tank top and loose boxers. his blond hair a mess and he was sweaty, but at the very least, his breathing was heavy. poor thing had a one track mind right now. to fuck.

and while for more bunny hybrids that meant accepting whatever cock they could get. simon wanted to fill someone up with his hot cum and let his bunnies grow inside another hybrid. you got down to your lover's nest and gave him the plate.

"eat, my love. c'mon, you need the energy." you cooed as you cupped his sweaty face. you watched simon sit up against the pile of pillows. you cooed at him softly as he ate a little bit.

except he used very little of the fork and knife you gave him. using his hands and licking his hands free of butter, grease and egg yolks. you kissed his face softly as your feverish simon ate greedily.

"amazin'." he purred, "taste good. my good made." he loudly ate and leaned in for a messy kiss that got breakfast on your face before he went back to eating. he said, "get your clothes off, need the proper scent in the nest."

you slowly got undressed while he finished eating. he licked his fingers before he got he strong arm around you. his cottontail wiggled as he rubbed himself up against you. he stuck his nose in your hair and heavily exhaled.

"feel good." he said. simon was probably the largest bunny hybrid you've ever seen. man stood close to 6'5, he was a military man covered in scars and tattoos. he was scary even with those perked blond bunny ears and white cottontail. he leaned in and gave you a sloppy kiss.

his tongue was quickly in your mouth and you moaned. you clutched onto him and he groaned as you sharp nails dug into his shoulders. when he pulled away his tongue was out, panting. his cock strained his sweaty boxers and he needed you. he needed that release.

you were naked. known as a predator animal, you were under him without a single stitch on you. all curves for him. he got his hard cock out of his briefs and there was a feral look in his eye. you swallowed and said, "simon."

he gave you a wide grin, "like what ya see, my little wolf? i bet you were thinkin' about while you were cookin' for me." he licked his lips, even bunnies desired flesh, "could smell ya under all that cookin'. kept strokin' myself, knowin' you were playin' wife for me."

you swallowed and shifted a little, "fuck, simon... take me." and your eyes went wide when simon used his strength to hike your knees to your ears and expose your pussy to him. he sank into you quickly and you let out a small gasp as you became accustomed to his length.

he probably had the biggest cock you've ever seen.

he planted his hands on either side of your head and moved against you. his cock nudged against all the right places. it wasn't even like he was going particularly fast. he may be a fast little rabbit, but he wanted to consume you. he wanted to feel all of you, every inch of you.

you were his mate, bonded till the end. your souls were intertwined together if you wanted to understand it in a metaphysical way. the wolf and the bunny, except the bunny was the scary one and the wolf was the more harmless one. you weren't a push over, but you weren't the imposing one in the relationship. not that you minded, you enjoyed how protective simon could be.

he laid wet kisses on you as you laid in his nest. his protected space with all the items a bunny hybrid like him could need. that included his mate. he fucked you into the covers, the soft quilts and even the throw pillows from the couch. it was a safe place for him to have you all to himself. and you happily let have you, all of you.

you wrapped your arms around him and the two of you moved together. there was something so tender between the two of you, even if there was an under current of intense sexual want. a neediness that your simon had for you as he rutted against you. he was only thinking with his cock, but he still had enough restraint to not harm you.

he'd never harm you.

"gonna breed ya. gonna give you some bunnies to take care of." he purred, "ya'd love that, wouldn't ya, love. carryin' my little bunnies around in your perfect womb." he licked his lips. he felt more predator than his animal traits led on. he was hungry the way a wolf was, not a rabbit.

"wanna give me babies?"

"ya, all of 'em. keep ya locked away all of my heat so i can ruin that pussy of yours and give ya a bunch of bunnies to be a good mama too. maybe we'll end up with a few wolf pups, but i wanna see ya haulin' around my babes like a good den mother." his thrusts grew in strength. his words were coated in a heavy lust.

"fuck." you exhaled deeply. his words were erotic.

"you feel amazing, my mate." he purred, "you feel so good around me. this fucking pussy is amazing, only thing i want during this time. how could i not want you? you're my mate, we're bonded and i love you more than words can describe. ya know that, right, my little wolf." he continued to move against you. he could feel the pleasure in his body, he could feel the leap of want in his core.

"please, simon. holy fuck." you shakily exhaled as you held onto his strong shoulders tighter. your loving bunny mate, he looked lovely on top. those dark features that scared most, but lured you in. he was by every definition the worst bunny hybrid, but you loved it. everything from the resting scowl on his face, to the scarring, to those soft bunny ears and how he could easily wrap you up in his arms.

he was the ideal partner for you.

you kissed once more. your knees knocked against your cheeks as he pressed further into you. the kisses were hungry as you knew you both weren't going to last much longer. the pleasure left you out of breath and a slight fuzziness in your head. you held on tightly for support as he worked your body against his. he wanted to make love to you, he yearned for you deeply. there was something so carnal about your love making that it left a flutter of lust in your gut as your mate fucked you.

"all mine." he purred as he held onto the covers a little tightly. he pressed himself as far as he could go, he wanted to make sure you felt every inch of his hefty cock. you whined in response.

you two shared one more heated kiss, you whined your love for him against his lips as he continued to thrust. a few more heavy thrusts and he finished inside of you. he shoved his entire length into you and made sure that his cum hit right against your cervix. it would be the only thing that would sate the sexual desire in his body. to breed his loving mate.

you exhaled shakily as he came inside of you. you panted heavily and felt the euphoria through you as he continued to thrust inside of you. he continued his movements. he wanted to make you feel good to as his still hard cock pushed his cum as deep as it would go. but he couldn't help himself, he came a second time very quickly. only to slip his cum all the way to the back of your pussy.

he felt lucid and now worked solely on hormones. you whined and your eyes fluttered as you felt the wanted in your heated core. you whined as you felt the stimulation in your body from your mate push you over the sexual edge. you let out such a beautiful moan and came around his cock.

"good, good." he mused, "fuck, that's it, my little wolf." he said, the edge had been taken off and he could relax. he pulled out and flopped down next to you on the mattress. you reeked of his aroused scent and before you could drop your legs down to the bed. he had you curled up in his arms.

his lips on your neck as he said sweet nothings to you. promises of pups and bunnies and being forever mates.

-

you didn't have your heat that spring, all it took was a weekend of simon's cycle to impregnate you. now it was summer and you were cuddled up with your much larger mate. his hand on your swollen middle as you got comfortable next to him.

you were carrying two babies; two pups, two bunnies, who knew. wouldn't know until they were born by fall. your swell was impressive and your dear simon loved it.

it wasn't common for a wolf to be impregnated by a bunny, but you had to admit. the pregnancy looked better on you anyway, and simon would agree as he contorted himself to kiss your swollen middle.

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab (keigo does talk ab making you a mommy tho, and you refer to yourself as his girlfriend once), reader is a civilian, this is pre-war, reader and keigo are dating, no lube no protection (all night all day), baby trapping lowk????, idk he nonconsensually cums in you and then proposes (you accept tho), creampies, cockwarming, kinda lazy ending?? idgaf GENRE: smut SUMMARY: it’s the start of mating season and keigo had just saved a mother and her child at work today, so it’s only natural for him to come home with the overwhelming need to knock you up. WORD COUNT: 2.6K 🦊’s A/N: keigo they could Never make me hate you…. anyway hope yall enjoy this fr

     not only was today the first day of his rut, meaning his last day of hero work until the spring was over, but he had also gone out of his way to save a mother and her crying child while off-duty. he’d been heading home after an eventful and tiring patrol when he ran into them being threatened by a petty mugger—nothing he couldn’t handle, especially after the day he’d had, but he can imagine having a gun pointed to your face must be scary to an untrained civilian. now, he was brimming over with emotions, barely keeping his cool as he walks through the threshold of your shared home, slamming the door loudly behind him, wings all puffed up and ruffled.

     “keigo? honey, what’s wron—” you’re suddenly cut off by a small flurry of his feathers sweeping you off your feet and carrying you from the kitchen towards where he stood in the living room, in the process of stepping out of his boots and shrugging his jacket off. you’re immediately taken aback by his serious demeanor and you open your mouth to say something, except that no words come out. what should you say?

     “how was your day..?” you ask tentatively after a brief moment of silence. 

     rather than verbally answering you, he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and shakes his head — a response you’re unfamiliar with. usually, he isn’t afraid to yap for at least fifteen minutes about how his day went, what happened, and sometimes even the people or fellow pros he talked to! so for him to remain silent…. well, it’s safe to say you’re starting to get worried. 

     had you done something wrong? was today exceptionally challenging? your heart rate increases as your anxious thoughts swirl around in your foggy mind, and you don’t know where to go from here.

     keigo knew what to do, though; he knew exactly how to relieve this stress.

     taking a step in your direction, he narrows his eyes, intense, predatory gaze locked onto yours, and suddenly, he’s leaning in for a kiss as he backs you up against the nearest wall. 

     the way he kisses you is controlled and barely put together, and you can tell he’s on edge, like he’s about to snap, so you say what you think he needs to hear.

     “you can rough me up a bit, kei, i promise i won’t break.”

     his eyes fly open at your words before narrowing as he nods before leaning back in with much more passion and any restraint right out the window. but he himself has said it before, he’s awful—he has no self-control; something that rang especially true when it came to you. 

     he’s spent whole evenings with his head buried between your thighs, eating you out until you’re crying and begging him to stop, saying it hurts, it hurts!, to which he always asks you for just one more. “one more” never meant one more, of course—keigo was greedy in this sense. he could never seem to get enough of you, always wanting more, more, more. if he could, he’d devour you whole, make you his entirely, and—that’s exactly what he was going to do tonight. he had been planning to propose for a while now, anyway. he had a ring and everything! he’d.. just been working up the courage to ask. so, then what better way than by deciding to knock you up on a whim. 

     well, …was it really a whim if he had fantasized about it before? the two of you had been dating since the summer of last year, meaning you haven’t seen him during his ruts yet, and, while he’s mentioned it briefly in the past, he didn’t actually expect to last this long with you so he never divulged the details of it—not because he wasn’t in love with you, but because he gave up on the dating scene because he’s always the one being dumped for being so. so. !!!! outwardly nonchalant about most things! or being married to his work, whatever they meant by that; he only worked so hard so he could have a future to relax in! no one ever seemed to understand that…. until he met you.

     something just clicked between the two of you upon your first meeting—you were probably the most interesting person hawks had ever saved, be it your quirk, your personality and mannerisms, or even something as simple as a remark you had made in the five something minutes it took to save you; he found himself unable to get you out of his head for days afterwards, eventually causing him to seek you out to ask a bewildered you on a date—just one, he had originally said.  

     you said yes immediately for a multitude of reasons—he was fine as fuck, he’d literally saved your life the other day, not to mention he was witty, and spoke his mind, too—something keigo hadn’t been expecting. he knew all of the above things, and yet, found himself somewhat nervous as he handed you a bouquet of pale red carnations, red camellias, and baby’s breath. he’d stayed up all night researching flower language and symbolism, deciding on the perfect ones to give to you, as he knew it was rude to show up to somebody’s house empty-handed, and, also, because… he’d never really felt this way about anyone before. there was something so magnetic between the two of you….

     but that’s enough reminiscing—he needs to be in the present moment, needs to focus on fucking you so good you go braindead on his dick, focus on cumming so deep in you, there’s no way you couldn’t not be pregnant with his child. keigo understood that having children as the number two pro hero would be no easy feat, but he thinks with you by his side, he can do anything. 

     sliding his tongue over the seam of your lips, one gloved hand comes up to squish your cheeks enough to force your lips to part for him and he easily slips the wet muscle into your mouth, taking his time sliding it along the insides of your cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, and the roof of your mouth, carefully exploring every inch and committing it to memory (as if he hadn’t already). 

     meanwhile, his other hand settles on your hip, massaging it lightly for a moment before his grip quickly tightens and he’s coaxing your tongue out of your mouth and into his as he begins to suck on it.

     “mmh,” you hum pleasantly, starting to drool as you let keigo decide how to use you in order to relieve his stress. 

     “missed ya t’day, dove,” he murmurs against your lips before nipping at your tongue and you feel your heart flutter. what had gotten into him? you weren’t necessarily complaining, but you still felt a little worried about him if you were being totally honest.

     keigo, sensing your unease, slowly pulls away from the kiss to ask if something was wrong, just for you to deflect the question back onto him. 

     “‘m fine, it was just a long day is all,” he tells you in earnest, leaving out the part about the beginning of his rut. “need’a feel you s’bad, though,” he breathes out, moving to kiss you again; tilting his head, he slots his lips back over yours, and it feels like he’s going to eat you alive. and, truthfully, he just might.

     before you even realize what he’s doing, he’s picking you up, wrapping your legs around his narrow waist, and carrying you into the bedroom where he’s pinning you to the mattress, wings spread wide for you to admire as you look up at him. you’re sure his words held a bit of truth to them, but he was behaving a little oddly for reasons you couldn’t put together yet. 

     him being a horny little shit wasn’t the unusual bit, but rather, his upbeat demeanor was nowhere to be found—even if it was an act almost all the time, it still felt weird to see him so serious looking.

     “kei…”

     “shh, stop worrying, sweets,” he shushes you, leaning in for another hungry kiss. you oblige him of course, parting your lips and poking your tongue out to meet his as you close your eyes

     his large wings create an almost dome around the two of you, shutting out the world, only leaving room for the two of you, and not another soul. 

     perhaps it would be best to sit back, relax, and let your boyfriend play with you… so that’s exactly what you do, settling fully onto the soft bed and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in closer—something that had him smirking against your soft lips. 

     it’s not long before you’re both naked, having grown too hot for the unnecessary layers separating your bare bodies, and soon, you suddenly have a pillow tucked under your hips, keeping them at an angle—something that confuses you.

     “keigo?”

     “just relax, dove.”

     he leans in closer, bringing his lips to yours as his one hand grasps at your hip, blunt nails (that he has to trim daily, mind you, lest they grow into talons) digging into the tender flesh there while his other grabs at his leaky cock, tapping it against your clit a couple times before lining it up with your slit and slowly pushing in, doing his best to show restraint and not bottom out in one fluid motion. you both groan at the feeling, the stretch so deep you almost feel nauseous.

     bringing two fingers down to your pulsing clit, he rubs semi-rough circles against the little bud, trying his hardest not to overwhelm you, but needing to hurry up and get you off so he can stuff you full of his cum.

     “mmmh,” you moan quietly as he focuses on working you up to your first orgasm out of many for the long night he had planned for you.

     it’s not long before you’re cumming with a cry and suddenly, keigo’s got his dick lined up with your slick little hole, easing himself in as he bites his bottom lip, trying not to whimper. 

     “fuuuck, you’re so tight, sweets,” he groans, rocking his hips into your, unkempt pubes brushing against your neatly trimmed ones. 

     your hands come up to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, before you’re tugging at his wings, and you feel his dick twitch inside you.

     “don’t,” is all he’s able to get out, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where he begins sucking and biting at the skin there. 

     “why not?” you grin like an idiot, already knowing the answer. you knew damn well just how sensitive keigo’s wings were—already having had this discussion when you first started having sex and you went to grab at them for the first time.

     “don’t ask stupid questions when you know the answer, dove,” he warns.

     you, ever the brat, decide to start stroking on his wings, and you feel his hips stutter and teeth sink into the column of your throat. 

     “nngh–!” you whine, tugging on the bright red feathers. keigo moans loudly at this, and quickly grabs the backs of your thighs to fold you in half and start fuckin’ pounding into you—his thrusts are fast and sloppy, and the sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin turns you on even more, pussy drooling around his dick.

     it doesn’t take long before keigo’s cumming deep inside you without warning, something that has your eyes flying open. 

     “k–keigo–! y– you just— you..!” the words aren’t there as panic begins to settle in. something you had both agreed on before you started fucking was that even if you did it raw, he had to pull out—kids were a big no for the both of you.

     but here was your boyfriend, fucking you throughout his orgasm and working his way up to a second as he looks down at you with a gaze so intense, you feel small beneath him. 

     tugging at his wings again, you cry out his name as he fucks his cum into you, just for him to ignore your pathetic mewls and pleas.

     “k– kei—!”

     “gonna knock y’up so good—g’nna— fuck— g’nna make you a mommy—”

     your face flushes deeply at his words—is this what had gotten into him? the urge to breed you? knock you up?

     “f–fuck!” you pull at his wings, rolling your hips upwards as best you can as he desperately ruts into you. this triggers keigo’s second orgasm, his pelvis pressing flush against yours as he cums hard. 

     “nngh—! hnnmg—fuck,” keigo moans as his hips still while he spills another load deep within you. “shit— y’feel so fuckin’ good, baby—” 

     this continues for what seems like ever, but in reality is maybe fifteen minutes of your boyfriend fucking into you until he physically can’t cum anymore, until tears are running down his cheeks from how overstimulated he is, and he’s collapsing on top of you with a tired sigh.

     “k–keigo— we— we can’t—” can’t what? “‘m gonna get pregnant— y’gotta let me get up,” you try to say, shoving at his chest; but it was no use, he was dead weight. 

     “good,” he says breathlessly, nuzzling his face into your neck. 

     “n–no! not good! i— we’re only dating! what would the media think if they found out the number two pro hero went and knocked his girlfriend up?!” your concern is genuine, but also stems from selfish reasons. you’re sure the reporters would hound you the moment they caught a whiff of something fishy, and—

     “then marry me.” his words are so serious sounding that they immediately break you out of your own mind and your eyes go wide with shock and awe. had he seriously just. proposed?! while still being balls deep in you!? 

     “huh!?” you sound just as caught off guard as you look, and keigo cranes his neck up to look at you, expression the most serious you’d ever seen it. …okay, so he obviously wasn’t joking around, but, but–!

     “you heard me. …i’d been meaning to get you a ring for a little while now, but couldn’t find one i thought you might like, so…..” his cheeks are flushed and face sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead as he gazes at you so tenderly, your heart can’t help but feel full.

     “i— keigo, i…” he waits patiently as you fumble with your words. “yes,” finally falls from your lips, a grin tugging at the corners of them.

      unable to say anything else, you cup his cheeks with both hands and press kisses all over his handsome face before you slot your lips over his and lean in slowly, almost teasingly.

     keigo, ever impatient, leans in to close the gap, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head as his hips twitch and he pushes further into you, causing the disgusting amount of cum stuffed in your cunt to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock, and drip down to your puckered asshole. after that, it doesn’t take much longer for keigo to fuck you both to sleep.

     and that’s how you found yourself in the exact same position one year later, having put your first child to bed no less than an hour ago, with your now husband pinning you to your shared mattress, talking about how he wants a second kid—how beautiful you looked pregnant the first time, and how he’d love to see you like that again. so, he makes it happen. and then one more time after that.

return to KINKTOBER | PRO HERO M.LIST

[nightingale-prompts]

Do NOT Touch a God- DC x DP Prompt (Tim x Danny)

Correction: don't touch Danny.

A rule has been added to the house rules of Titans Tower. It started after the arrival of the summoning of the interdimensional teen that takes residence there.

Despite being only a teenager the power he held was at the level of a god. He causally reshaped reality around him to his liking. Rooms are made bigger on the inside but remain the same outside. Danny's hate for things getting too dirty made all clothes left on the floor for too long disappear into the laundry room and spilled drinks evaporate. The tower became self-cleaning as everything found its place on its own. Danny said it was just what he prefers, lab safety and all that. Sometimes Danny would turn off gravity, no reason be just likes it like that.

Unfortunately, he doesn't go on missions except for extreme situations where he is needed. He is content to spend his time in the med bay as the resident healer. He is also one of the few that can fix up Cyborg. Danny doesn't get involved unnecessarily. This has led to a few arguments in the past over how unhelpful he can be despite being able to help them. Danny shrugs it off and disappears when it happens. It was not fair on him, if he didn't want to fight he shouldn't have to. He was an asset and he offered his help freely.

So why does the No Touch rule exist? Well, Danny doesn't like touching people. He wears gloves for a reason especially when he is working in the bay fixing up everyone after a mission. He also avoids others touching him, shrinking away when someone tried.

Everyone respected that boundary but after a rough mission in particular Kon started an argument with him. The injuries were severe and he was just mad that M'gann was hurt. Danny was already overwhelmed with healing everyone and Kon seemed to strike a nerve. When Kon almost made contact with him Danny flickered out of existence and reappeared further away.

After several hours of fixing broken bones and open wounds Danny retreated.

Tim decided to check on him later. Kon was sorry for overreacting and blaming Danny for something he couldn't control but Danny probably didn't want to see him right now.

Danny looked worse for wear when he opened the door. He looked tired, weary from using his energy. He wrapped a blanket around himself.

They talked for a while. Mostly about nothing important, other times about how stressful things were right now.

Tim often found it hard to believe that Danny wasn't just a normal teen. Then again, what did he know about normal?

But he had wondered something.

He reached out and tried to hold Danny's hand but Danny moved away quickly noticing.

"You shouldn't do that." He said simply.

Had he been Dick he would repect the boundaries and if he was Jason he'd probably agree. But he was Tim and Tim was very bad at boundaries. That's kind of how he got here.

"Why not?" Tim asked.

"It might be too much," Danny said cautiously eyeing Tim who held his hands up.

"Try me."

Danny sighed and removed one of his gloves and touched his hand to Tim's shoulder.

All at once different sensations filled his senses. A comforting touch of a friend, a light fluttering of a passing stranger on the street, a strike of a hated rival, the steady hand of a family member, the playful tap of a classmate, the caress of a lover...all at once. Each feeling is defined but also blurred. It was almost like being pulled in thousands of directions as they tried to claim a part of Tim into their reality.

A single touch sent him into a trace. When Danny pulled away he expected to have broken Tim like how a child accidentally snaps their toys when playing. He knew his touch could overwhelm people almost to death. Clockwork said he'd be able to control it some day but Danny didn't even want to test it. Being able to fracture someone's mind was scary. Seeing it happen once was enough. So why did he try it on Tim? Did he not care what happened to him?

It's a bit selfish and embarrassing to admit but...not being able to touch another person was awful. He's not clingy but it feels like he has lacked sensation for a long time. Tim willingly asked for this and Danny wanted this as well.

Tim wasn't broken. Infact he had never felt more alive. When Danny removed his hand he found himself pulling it back to him. He couldn't explain it but it felt like...everything. Indescribable but amazing. It was contradictory but all of it made sense.

"Do it again!"

Things kind of escalated from there. It would probably be crass to even say it but let's just say that neither was lacking sensation. It was profound, not purely physical nor emotional, something else entirely. The religious sort would call it divine or a blessing, perhaps it was what heaven feels like. Others would call it sinful, partaking in things no human was meant to know or experience. The folly of humanity.

It was certainly addictive though. Whispered words echoed in every tongue. With every contact a new chorus created. The memories of long dead god flashed and worlds yet unawakened showed themselves. And just when it seemed like everything in the universe had collided and finally made sense...it was over.

There was a knock on the door.

Danny managed to roll the breathless, Tim off with a groan. He stretched feeling a bit locked up. He had been holding each other for a while now.

He opened the door and saw Kon standing there nervously.

"Look, Im sorr-"

"Danny?" Tim called out groggily interrupting whatever Kon was saying.

"I'm busy," Danny said quickly closing the door to go back to...you know.

(So were they having sex or just cuddling? I have no fucking idea and I wrote this. I feel like it's a secret third that is somehow worse.)

[aquaholicsanonymousworld]

i am obsessed with jack yapping to robby so he feels a bit better so could i req a scenario of jack and reader having a nasty argument and reader gets overwhelmed af so she gets some fresh air and he follows soon after and just yaps ur ear off and tries to land some jokes cos hes a loser #please ❤️ i love ur work

"bc he's a loser" LMAO (thankyouu!!)

Don’t Walk Away From Me|Pairing: Jack Abbott x Reader

The door slammed behind you harder than you meant. Not that it mattered.

Your hands were shaking as you leaned on the rusted railing of the hospital's back steps, the chill of Pittsburgh air cutting through your scrubs like paper. You just needed a second. A breath. A break from—

"Okay, wow." Jack’s voice followed seconds later. "So we’re slamming doors now? Cool. Was just wondering where we landed on the maturity scale today."

You didn’t turn around.

"I needed air, Jack. That’s all."

"Right. And you had to get it dramatically. Like mid-argument Broadway walk-off level dramatic."

You clenched your jaw, the tears building against your will. “I’m not doing this right now.”

"No, no, you don’t get to ‘not do this.’ You stormed out after basically accusing me of—what? Caring too much? Being too involved? Forgive me for giving a shit, sweetheart."

"Jack," you snapped, whipping around, "you talk over me constantly when you're mad. You bulldoze every feeling I have until I’m so spun around I start questioning if I’m even making sense."

You looked up at him—storm in your eyes, chaos in your chest. “I needed one thing today. One ounce of support, and instead I got that—whatever that was in there.”

Jack blinked. The words landed harder than you expected. He stepped back, rubbed a hand down his face, then sighed, soft.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I deserved that.”

Silence.

He shifted awkwardly. You knew he wasn’t good at this. Processing feelings that weren’t neatly filed under ‘sarcasm’ or ‘making dumb jokes to defuse tension.’ But he tried. Always tried.

“I’m… not good at being wrong,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Or scared. Especially not both at the same time.”

He glanced over at you, squinting in the streetlight glow.

“But for the record,” he added with a smirk, “I was mostly mad because you looked me in the eye and told me you didn’t need me. That was rude. And honestly? False. You definitely need me. I keep this operation charming.”

You laughed—more like a watery scoff—but he grinned like he’d just won an award.

“There it is,” he said, stepping closer. “The laugh. God, I missed that. Felt like I was arguing with a robot version of you in there. Kind of scary.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

He nodded solemnly. “Certified. But I’m your idiot, and I’m trying here, okay?”

You shook your head, but you didn’t move when he came close. He didn’t touch you, not yet, just stood there breathing beside you, both of you watching your breath cloud in the cold.

After a beat, he nudged you with his elbow. “Want me to sing you a sad song about it? I can do jazz hands.”

“I will push you down these stairs.”

“Romance isn’t dead,” he whispered, mock wounded.

You cracked a smile. Just barely.

And then Jack finally reached for your hand—tentatively, reverently—and laced his fingers with yours.

“I love you,” he said, quiet this time. “Even when we’re fighting. Especially then, actually, because you’re mean as hell when you’re angry and I find it wildly hot. Just FYI.”

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hand back. “You’re exhausting.”

“Yep. But you keep coming back. Guess that means we’re stuck.”

You leaned into his shoulder. “Guess so.”

And for the first time that day, you finally breathed.